


gaze up to the stars so brightly gleaming

by thesecretdetectivecollection



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Gary breaking my heart a little bit, Gen, M/M, Phil being a good dad, also acting adorable, deaged Gary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-04-26 08:48:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14398518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesecretdetectivecollection/pseuds/thesecretdetectivecollection
Summary: Gary wakes up in a strange bed wearing a shirt that's far too big for him.Phil gets a call that his brother is now three years old, and promptly arrives to pick him up and take care of him.And then Jamie gets involved, wanting to know everything that's going on.





	1. Chapter 1

Gary wakes up in a strange bed in a strange house, wearing clothes that are way too big for him. He gets out of the bed—way too high up, and with no bumpers to keep him from falling off the side—and toddles around, looking for Mummy and Daddy.

It's too quiet. He can't even hear the babies, crying in sync, little Phil and Tracey, with their yellow blankets because Mummy hadn't wanted to know if they were boys or girls until they'd gone to fetch them from the hospital.

Gary had never understood how Mummy and Daddy told them apart, they were both loud and had fat cheeks and short blond hair. Gary had brown hair, he'd told Mummy, asking why he wasn't blond like the babies.

He's starting to get a little scared, and he walks around the whole upstairs and finds no one. He goes back to the bed he'd been sleeping in and finds a phone next to it, a cordless landline. He remembers watching Mummy and Daddy making phone calls—they'd always tell him to be quiet, that they were talking to someone, even though there wasn't anybody in the room except Gary.

He picks up the phone, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to remember what Mummy had told him.

 _If you need help and Mummy and Daddy aren't around, ask a policeman_. But there were no policemen around. He considered going outside, but even the stairs were scary, he couldn't imagine going outside on his own.

He tries to remember—there had been a nice policeman who'd come to his class once. He'd given them a number to call. What was it again? There'd been a song. He hums it, trying to remember.

"Nine-nine-nine!" He shouts triumphantly.

He dials the number, and a nice lady answers the telephone. He feels instantly safer.

"Hello, 999, what's your emergency?" The voice belongs to a lady. She sounds nice, and Gary instantly feels a little safer.

"Hello? I-I'm alone in the house! I don't know where my Mummy or Daddy or Phil or Tracey are!"

"Okay, honey, slow down. What's your name?"

"Gary 'lexander Neville," Gary says slowly, stumbling over his middle name as he always does.

"And how old are you, Gary?"

"Twee!" Gary remembers, holding out three fingers in front of the phone in case she hadn't heard him.

"You're three and home alone? Are you sure the grown ups aren't just sleeping?"

"'m sure," Gary says softly, voice wobbling. "I woke up, 'n I don't know where I am, and I'm all by myself and I want my mummy! Or Daddy! He always tells me to be brave, and it's hard but it's easier when he's there being brave with me—"

"Okay, sweetheart," the lady interrupts, voice somehow still kind, "you said you don't know where you are? Are you at home?"

Gary pauses to think. It doesn't look like home, but it does feel like it, for some reason. "I can't find Mummy," he repeats, "I'm at home, but I don't know where she is--"

"Right, love, do you know what your address is? It's the number of your house or apartment building, and what street you live on. Like Sesame Street. My address is 123 Sesame Street. Do you know what your address is, Gary?"

"N-no," Gary says softly, lower lip wobbling again, "am I lost? I don't know my address, am I lost?"

"It's okay, sweetie, you're doing so well. Try to be brave for me like you would for Daddy, okay? I can figure out your address from where you’re phoning from, okay? I’m going to send a policeman to your house, and they’ll come get you, okay? Can you get to the front door?”

"I-I'm upstairs," Gary says quietly, "Mummy and Daddy say I have to hold their hands while I go downstairs."

"It's okay, honey, we're going to get you downstairs. Can you sit on the top step? Can you sit your bottom down and put your legs down?"

"And scooch down the steps on my bum?"

"Exactly right, love. Can you try that for me?"

Gary nods and sits down carefully, scooching down and holding the phone with one hand. "Okay, I done it."

"Yes, please! That'll help us find you, Gary, okay? And then we can find your Mummy and Daddy."

"And Phil and Tracey," Gary insists. "They're just little babies, they can't ask for help."

"Course, we'll get them back too.”

"Okay, love, that's good. I'm going to send a really nice policeman to your house, okay? He's going to knock and say he's the police. Can you open the door for him when he gets there?"

"Uh huh." The nice lady stays on the line until there's a knock at the door. "Gary? It's me, I'm the police!" Gary runs over to the door and pushes as hard as he can, until the door gets unbolted and he can twist the knob.

There's a tall, dark-skinned officer standing there, with big wide shoulders and very white teeth that are smiling at him, and Gary's so relieved he throws himself at him and promptly bursts into tears.

"Gary? My name is Officer Ed, but you can call me Eddie. Can I pick you up?"

Gary sniffles and nods, holding up his arms and letting Eddie pick him up. There's a smaller, shorter, brown-skinned man at the bottom of the steps.

"Gary, this is my friend. His name is Sadiq. Can you say that?"

"Sa-diq," Gary pronounces carefully, holding out his hand to shake the way Daddy made him do whenever his friends came over.

"Hullo, Gary, we're gonna find your Mummy and Daddy, okay?"

Gary nods and Sadiq drives the car while Eddie sits in the back, holding onto Gary as they go.

Gary falls asleep on the drive, though he feels the movement of the car, and he vaguely remembers the feeling of the grownup holding him walking, but mostly, he remembers a warm hand in his hair, and he remembers sleeping.

Eddie wakes him eventually. "Hiya, Gary. Do you remember me?"

Gary nods. "Off-i-cer Eddie," he says, careful to enunciate.

Eddie smiles at him.

"Are you going to be my new dad?"

"No, love. I wanna introduce you to Phil and Julie, okay? They're gonna look after you for awhile. And if you need any help and they're not around, just do what you did today and call the police, okay?"

Gary nods solemnly, looking up at the tall blond man who looked a little bit like Mummy and a little bit like Daddy, too. The man kneels in front of him and puts his hand out. "Are you my new Daddy? You look like him, a bit."

The man swallows, and the woman puts her hand at the back of his neck and squeezes lightly. He looks pale under the golden tan.

"Yeah, Gary. Yeah, I'm gonna be your Dad for awhile. My name's Phil, okay? And this is Julie, she's my wife."

“You look like my daddy, kind of!” Gary says cheerfully, shaking Phil’s hand. “And you’re really pretty, I think you’ll be a really nice Mummy until my real ones come home. When is that going to happen, please?”

Phil’s face scrunches up a little and he swallows hard. “We’re—we’re looking for them, Gary. We’re looking and your friend Officer Eddie is looking, and all his policemen friends, they’re all looking, okay? Hopefully we’ll find them soon, and everything will be back to normal.”

Gary nods and lifts his arms up as Phil stands up, wanting to be held by a grownup he trusts, and Phil picks him up easily.

“Tank you, Phil ‘n Julie,” he says softly, remembering Mummy telling him his magic words. He’d tried them a lot and nothing had really happened—nothing magical, at least, but they did tend to get him what he wanted, which was usually a hug, and Phil’s arms are big and warm and strong around him, holding him tight and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Come on, Gary, let’s get you home, okay? I have two kids, a boy called Harvey and a girl called Isabe—Izzy. Izzy’s okay for you, love. They’re gonna be like your big brother and big sister.”

“I have a baby brother and baby sister,” Gary says quietly, leaning his head against Phil’s shoulder. “They’re little and blond and one years old. The boy one is called Phil, too, just like you. The girl one is called Tracey. Are they with Mummy and Daddy?”

“I—I don’t know, love, but we’ll find them, okay? We’ll find them.”

“I hope they’re with Mummy and Daddy,” Gary says seriously.

“I know, Gary,” Phil says soothingly, stroking his dark hair.

They don’t have a car seat. They hadn’t been quite prepared, really. Julie looks at Phil. It’s clear that one of them will have to hold him on their lap in the backseat while the other drives them home. Normally Phil drives when it’s the two of them in the car together, but Gary’s his brother, and he looks like he almost can’t bear to let him go, not even to Julie.

She holds out a hand for the keys. “Let me.”

“Thank you, love,” Phil says softly, kissing her cheek.

He climbs into the backseat and holds Gary in his lap, pulling the seatbelt over himself and wrapping his arms over Gary, a human seatbelt to keep his baby brother safe.

His throat is tight. He’d never _had_ a baby brother before, though he’d always secretly wondered what it would be like to have one. He wants Tracey, suddenly, wants to call her and beg her to come over. More than anything, though, he wants Gary. Real, grown-up Gary. Someone to come and tell him what to do.

Gary falls asleep in the car, and when they get to Phil’s house, he quietly carries him into the house and into his bed—they haven’t got anywhere else to put him, and something in Phil instinctively rebels at putting a three year old up in a guest bedroom, alone in the coldest bedroom, the least personal, with a bed that was too big and too far away from everyone else—too far away from Phil.

“I’ll go pick up the kids,” Julie says quietly, “try to explain the situation to them. You should call Sky, though, you know them, and it would sound like—it just wouldn’t sound believable, coming from me.”

Phil nods, laying down on his back, careful not to displace his sleeping brother.

Julie pauses and looks up at him.

“Should I… pick up some pull-ups?” she asks delicately. “He’s young. Even if he is toilet-trained, he’s been through a lot, and he’s scared, kids have accidents.”

Phil grimaces at the thought of his older brother having an accident. It’s invasive, it’s personal, it’s his infallible big brother suddenly small and vulnerable in a bigger way than he had ever been before. Not to mention he’s currently on top of Phil to begin with.

“I’ll take him to the bathroom now,” he says softly, “before he starts sleeping properly. Get a small pack of pullups, I don’t know how long this is going to last, if he’s going to age back up to forty-two or if he’ll wake up tomorrow fully-grown.”

Julie nods, coming over to kiss Phil on the forehead and resting a light, maternal hand on Gary’s small back.

“I’ll call your mother, see what he liked to eat at this age, okay?”

“I love you, Jules.” And he does. He doesn’t even know how he got lucky enough to land a woman this incredible, what must have possessed her to say yes when he’d proposed. He reaches out and takes her hand, squeezing it gently to say all the thank yous he can’t quite get out with a sleeping toddler on his chest.

“Love you too, Phil.”

And then she’s gone and Phil wraps his other arm around the little boy, too, and drifts off himself, completely forgetting his promise to take him to the bathroom first.

He wakes some time later, disoriented because he’s not used to taking naps during the day, though the Spanish siesta had suited him quite well when he’d been in Valencia.

He wakes when Gary does, rubbing one small fist against his eye and pushing Phil’s heavy arms off his body. He yawns as he sits up. He’s caught off guard when he sees Phil open his eyes and he nearly topples to the floor, saved only by Phil’s reflexes, shaped in equal parts by fatherhood and football. He gets a hand round Gary’s side just in time to correct his balance and get him sitting up again.

“Hullo, Gary,” he says sleepily, “do you remember me?”

“You’re Phil.” He pauses, looking sad. “They haven’t found my Mummy and Daddy yet?”

“No, sweetheart,” Phil lies, steadying him as he stands up. “Do you need the toilet, Gary? Do you know how—?”

Gary nods. “I don’t wear nappies anymore. But, sometimes, at—at night—I don’t like the dark, and I get scared, and there are monsters, and—and I have accidents, sometimes.”

Phil nods, setting him on the floor and leading him by the hand to the toilet, walking in with him and monitoring him to see if he needs any help. He manages well on his own and Phil lifts him up so he can wash his hands. They’d had a stepping stool, when Harvey and Isabella had been this small. Maybe they still had it somewhere, in the cellar with their old things.

He’d have to look. For that and some of Harvey’s old clothes from when he’d been this age—there was no way Gary could run around safely in the adult-sized t-shirt. It hung all the way down to his toes, and the neck was so wide it was always slipping over one of his narrow shoulders.

“Do you wanna go on a treasure hunt with me, Gary?”

Phil’s voice is enthusiastic and Gary perks up immediately, brushing his hands against the towel and patiently waiting for Phil to dry them properly.

“Yesyesyes!! Treasure hunt! Treasure hunt!”

“Okay, love, I’m gonna carry you up to the cellar, and you’re gonna help me look for some magic clothes, okay? Something right around your size. I think we might even have some football kits, if you want! Do you like football, son?”

Gary nods so enthusiastically Phil worries for his neck.

Phil carries him up the stairs to the cellar and makes a beeline for the two wardrobes set up in the corner. He thanks the heavens for his wife for perhaps the fiftieth time that day, when he sees that the wardrobes are split up for Harvey and Isabella.

They hadn’t kept everything their kids had ever worn, of course, but Julie had insisted on keeping some things aside, just to remember their kids by as they grew older and taller. It was just what her family did, she’d said.

He loves Julie. Hell, he loves his in-laws, too. They could come stay for a month after all this was sorted, he thinks to himself gratefully.

He digs through the stuff and finds an old teddy bear, one of Harvey’s old favorite companions. It’s aged gracefully, though it has a few careful stitches in its belly where Julie had had to do some emergency surgery once and its tail is a little fragile-looking.

“Gary, this is...” Phil strains to remember the name of the bear, as if it really matters. He manages it, though, remembering his old teammate fondly. “This is Freddie-Bear, Gary. He’s a really good friend. Do you wanna play with him?”

Gary nods and holds his sweet, chubby little arms out for the bear, sitting on the floor and playing quietly while Phil manages to find some old clothes that might fit him. Some of them, he notices, are brand-new. Gifts from Phil’s mother, probably, that Julie hadn’t liked, or Harvey hadn’t tolerated. He grins and takes them all out. He has the best wife in the whole world. There’s just no other explanation.

“Marry a lovely girl, Gary,” he instructs, “you’ve got to marry a really smart, really pretty girl when you get older.”

“What if I wanna marry a really smart, really pretty boy instead?” Gary asks him innocently, sitting on the floor next to him and playing with Freddie-Bear.

They’d—they’d never talked about this. It had never come up, or if it had, then Phil had been too young or too drunk to remember. Though it would explain why Gary’s marriage hadn’t lasted. He’d always talked about his ex like he would a friend. He’d seemed a bit distant, preferred to spend his time with his friends. They’d never had any kids.

Phil clears his throat. “Then that’s fine, too,” he says firmly, “as long as he’s smart and nice to you and you love him.”

“Okay, Daddy,” Gary says easily.

Phil freezes. “I’m not your Dad, love. I told you, remember? I told you I’m Phil.”

“But you’re going to be my new Daddy, that’s what you said.” Gary doesn’t sound upset, more just curious, which is a holy miracle in and of itself.

“No, sweetheart, I’m going to be _like_ your Daddy. I’m going to take care of you like he does, until we can find him, okay?”

Gary shrugs, apparently unconvinced, but he lets it go, focusing on Freddie-Bear.

Phil thinks about their father then, with a lump in his throat. It’s coming up on two years now, since he’d died. Tracey had been the only one to have been there with him. But things had never been the same after he’d been arrested. He’d had his fair share of growing-up moments—moments he’d realized his parents were only human, moments of catching a glimpse of a façade of composure when they’d been rattled, a glance behind the curtain. But nothing had been the same after the arrest. His poor mother…

His throat tightens and his vision blurs for a moment, breath caught in his chest. He’s not even sure who he’s mourning, really, his father, his mother, who’d never been the same after she’d found out, or their sham of a marriage.

“Phil?” Gary pipes up.

He blinks and swallows hard. “Yeah, love? What’s going on?”

“Can I keep Freddie-Bear? Even when I go home to Mummy and Daddy?”

“Of course, sweetheart, you can keep him.”

Phil picks Gary and Freddie-Bear up in one arm and a handful of old clothes in the other, figuring that they’ll need a wash before he can get Gary dressed. He goes downstairs and remembers the step he needs to get so Gary can wash his hands on his own, though he’ll probably still need supervision, just to make sure he remembers to flush and use soap and dry his hands off properly afterwards. And he’ll need a toothbrush, too. They have spare ones at home, but he’s a toddler, he deserves a cute character one, anything to incentivize him to brush his teeth. God knows Harvey and Isabella hadn’t been too keen on it at this age. He texts Julie and asks her to add it to the list.

He sets Gary on the floor of the living room while he goes to run a quick load of laundry, coming back and playing with him while he waits for the load to finish so he can pop it into the dryer and get the poor little lad dressed in clothes that would actually fit him.

He learns that Freddie-Bear likes to play football, and when he prods him on which club he likes to play for, he’s promptly told that “Freddie-Bear is a United fan, Phil. All Nevilles are.” He laughs at that and kisses little Gary on the head. He’s a sweet boy, this Gary that he’d never quite gotten to know because he’d been an infant himself.

Eventually the laundry gets done, and once he gets Gary dressed, he goes to take him outside to kick a ball around, only to realize that he’s got no shoes.

He sighs heavily and takes Gary back up to the cellar to try to scrounge up some shoes, coming up empty.

“Looks like we’re going shopping, little man.” Gary makes a face. “I know, mate. I’m not exactly keen on going, either, but you’ve got to have some shoes if you wanna play outside with me and Harv when he gets home.”

Gary’s face lights up. “We’re gonna play outside?”

“Course, love. But you should have some shoes, at least.”

They go out and buy some shoes, some trainers in Gary’s size and some a few sizes bigger, in case he needs those as well. If he goes straight back to fully grown, Phil can loan him some shoes, at least until he gets back to his own house.

Julie and the kids are home when they get back, laughing and talking and having a snack the way they always do when they come home from school, before starting their homework.

Gary goes shy at the sight of them and clings to Phil’s leg, clutching Freddie-Bear in one arm.

“Here, sweetheart,” Phil murmurs, lifting him up and holding him. “It’s okay.” Gary promptly hides his face against Phil’s neck. “I told you I have other kids, too, didn’t I? This is my son Harvey, and this is my daughter Isabella. They’re gonna be like your big brother and big sister, okay, Gary?”

Gary stays quiet and still, and Phil exchanges a look with Julie as he rubs his back. “Hey, love, do you remember when you met me? You were so brave, little man, such a trooper. You shook my hand and all. Can you shake hands with Harvey and Isabella? If you do, then maybe we can ask Harvey if he wants to go outside and play with us. Isabella, too. Harvey likes football, you and him can play, with me in goal, okay?”

Gary nods a little and lifts his head, offering Isabella his left hand, right arm wrapped around Phil’s neck and still clutching Freddie-Bear. She smiles and shakes it awkwardly with her right hand, utterly enchanted by him already.

“Now Harvey,” Phil says quietly, and Gary nods, offering his hand to Harvey.

“We’re gonna play together?” he asks, sounding interested.

“Sure, mate,” Harvey says kindly.

“And Isabella, too, Gary. She can play catch-catch with you. You like playing catch-catch?”

Gary nods eagerly.

Julie smiles at him warmly. “Now, you’re a growing boy, Gary, you need some food. Can you drink some milk for me? And you can have some lovely biscuits to dunk in your milk if you like.” Gary looks more than slightly interested, left hand drifting absently towards his mouth until Phil tuts gently and pulls it away.

“Warm milk, then?” Gary nods. Phil pulls out a stool and sits next to Harvey, settling Gary in his lap. He wonders about a high chair, whether they should get one. They normally just eat at the counter, but these stools are high, if he sits in one alone and falls, it wouldn’t be good, he could get hurt—

“They’re so _big_ ,” Gary whispers to him loudly, “they’re _way_ bigger’n _me_!”

“They’re older than you,” Phil says placidly, taking the steaming cup of tea Julie offers him with a weary, grateful smile. “You’ll get bigger, too, Gary, I promise.”

Gary manages three-quarters of his glass of milk before he says he’s full. Phil’s not sure if he’s full or just wants to avoid the crumbs that’d fallen to the bottom from when he’d been dunking his biscuits. Either way, he finishes the last bit of the milk himself and sets Gary down.

“Just be careful playing, love, don’t want you getting any boo-boos. Harvey, Izzy, can you watch him? Just for a few minutes while I talk to Mum. You can go ahead and take him outside, maybe get in goal, on your knees, Harv, give him a chance, and let him take pens on you, or play catch. Just go easy, he’s little.” His kids look vaguely insulted at the last instruction. As if they could _possibly_ be unaware that their _uncle_ was now a toddler?

“Uncle Gary used to do that for me,” Harvey says softly, “let me take pens on him. He’d even kneel so I’d have a better shot.” He doesn’t wait for a response, just nods and gets up, putting his dishes into the sink before he takes Gary’s hand and leads him outside. Isabella follows her big brother, or maybe more accurately she follows Gary, clearly already adoring him in all his perpetually-sticky toddler charm.

“Where’s he gonna sleep, Jules?”

“Phil, the question isn’t where’s he gonna sleep, it’s how long is this going to last?! Is he just going to grow up naturally from here on out? Do we need to fudge some paperwork so we have some sort of legal status as his caretakers? How did this even happen?!”

“Hell if I know, Jules,” Phil says wearily, head in his hands. Julie sits next to him, leaning her head onto him.

“I’m sorry. I know you don’t know anything more than I do. But it would be so much easier to plan things if we knew—“

“I know. He called me Dad while I was looking for some clothes. And there aren’t many, if he stays this small, we’ll have to get him more. And the shoes, love, I bought some in his size and some in the next few sizes up, but shoes are so hard to gauge. And where is he gonna sleep? We haven’t got a crib or a spare kid’s bed. He’s scared of the dark, and I don’t want him in that guest room all on his own, he’ll get scared—“

“I’ll sleep in the guest room. I’ll sleep in the guest room and you can sleep with him in our bed. He’s attached to you. He doesn’t know that you’re his brother, but he still connects to you, just as a father figure.”

“He keeps asking about Mum and Dad. I don’t know how to tell him—and Mum’s too old to be worrying about this, I don’t want to upset her. She’ll want to look after him herself and she’s just not well enough to do it.”

“We can say he’s Gary’s kid. If he doesn’t come back to full-sized Gary soon, then we’ll just have to say that Gary’s disappeared and his secret love-child is here. Or we adopted him after Gary’s death and named him after him because of how similar they looked.”

Phil waves his hand. “Please, Jules. Could we not? I don’t know what the situation is, any more than you do. Let’s just deal with it as it comes, okay? He likes macaroni and cheese, he was pretending to have some with Freddie-Bear. It’s not the healthiest thing, but he’s a skinny little fella, a few calories would do him some good.”

Julie kisses him, then, soft on the cheek and then on the mouth. “He keeps looking over at you through the window, after every peno, trying to see if you saw him. Go on, go play with him.”

“But where’s he gonna sleep?”

“We can make him a little bed on the floor, with a sleeping bag and blankets and all. An air mattress, even. That way he can be close to us, and if he has trouble, we’ll be right there to look after him.”

“Love you, Julie. We’ll take a trip after this is all sorted, okay? Wherever you wanna go, we’ll go.” He smiles at her a little and hugs her tight before making his way out to the kids.

“Okay, Harv, time to let the old man get between the sticks,” he calls out, smiling as Gary beams and runs up to hug him round the legs.

“Come on, Gaz, did Harvey tell you how far away you’ve gotta be to take a penalty?”

“I tried to, Dad.”

“Right, love.” Phil sets the ball down. “Let’s warm up first, that’s what proper footballers do, Gary, pass the ball back and forth and then we’ll see about giving you some pens, okay?”

Gary nods, biting into his round, full, babyish lip as he takes aim carefully and misses the ball. Swinging his leg into the empty air sets him off balance and he falls over, legs in the air.

Harvey can’t quite help it. It’s just so funny, and Gary isn’t _hurt_ , he isn’t _crying_ , after all. He laughs.

Phil quells his son’s laughter instantly with a single withering glare, but the damage is done. The Gary who did MNF was tough, strong, resilient to criticism. He’d had to be, after the life he’d lived.

But this Gary is three years old. He bursts into tears, probably more embarrassed than anything else, and Phil promptly gathers him up into his arms. He tucks his face into Phil’s neck and wails, and poor Harvey looks absolutely wretched, thinking he’s the reason for it.

“Shh, sweetheart, you’re okay, you’re okay, you’re doing just fine. Harvey shouldn’t have laughed, I know, that wasn’t very nice, love, I know, but he didn’t mean to.” He rubs Gary’s back in the swift, firm way that he’d found calmed his own children when they were young. “We’ll try again, okay? We’ll try again, Gary, it’s okay.”

“Don’t _wanna_ try again,” whispers a small, stubborn voice.

“Please, Gary, come on, let’s have another go, love. I’ll help you, okay?”

Gary sniffs loudly. “No!”

“Okay, Gary. Do you wanna play with me? Harvey can be in goal, and you and me are gonna be a team, okay? A super-special, super-secret, super team!”

That piques the little boy’s interest and he looks up at him, little nose—still straight, Gary hadn’t broken it until he was in his twenties—runny and red. Phil pulls a tissue out of his pocket and holds it to Gary’s nose. “Blow your nosey first, as hard as you can, and then we’ll make a super team, you and me.”

Gary blows loudly and Harvey flinches at the grossness of the action, but Phil just folds the tissue over a few times and tucks it back into his pocket.

He sets Gary across his shoulders. “Right, kiddo, you’ve gotta hold on tight to me, okay? Hold tight around my neck—no, not quite _that_ tight, sweetheart, I need to breathe—yes, that’s good. Perfect!”

Gary giggles a little at the view from six foot up, having quite forgotten what that view had been like before.

“Okay, Harv, get in the goal, we’re probably going to start with penos and maybe do a few dribbles or stepovers, but that’s it, can’t run too much with this little monkey on my head!”

“Hey! I’m not a monkey!” Gary protests.

“No? You’re not a little monkey? You’re holding onto me like a little monkey, Gary!”

He reaches up and tickles Gary’s round little belly and holds tight when he squeals in laughter.

“Okay, Gary, now tell me which way you think we should hit it. But you gotta whisper, though, okay? Or Harv will hear and he’ll save it!”

“I—I don’t know left and right. I get confused,” Gary confesses softly.

“It’s okay, Gaz, just say tree if you want me to hit on the side that has the tree on it, and say house if you want the other side, okay?”

Gary agrees. “Now hold on tight, monkey-boy!” Phil’s tone is playful enough that Gary just smiles down at him and leans down to whisper _house_.

It’s loud, but Harvey has the tact to pretend not to hear it, and when he dives towards the right, Phil takes a gentle run up, hands on Gary’s legs holding him steady, and slots the ball into the upper left corner.

“WE DID IT, DADDY,” Gary screams, and if the words hurt a little bit, Phil doesn’t say anything, just pulls Gary down from his shoulders and pulls him into his arms, tickling his belly relentlessly.

They take a few more penalties after that, Gary growing confident enough to take a few by himself near the end, and when it’s getting a little bit later, Phil declares it’s time to go inside.

He sets Gary on the counter where he watches Julie cook and gets to help by stirring now and again, talking her ear off the whole time, telling her every single detail about his whole day. Phil sits with Harvey, helping him with his homework as much as he can, and then he goes off with Isabella to work on her exercises for half an hour before dinner.

By the time he gets back, Harvey and Gary have made up and they’re amicably playing with Freddie-Bear while Julie finishes up dinner and serves it.

Three is a tough age, Phil thinks, when he sets Gary on a chair and he’s still too short to reach his glass of water. _Should he have a sippy cup instead?_ He’s at that borderline, where he’s struggling a little with the width of the glass and has to hold it with both hands, where his control of his fork is a little shaky, but he manages okay when he’s sat on Phil’s lap. He makes a strong effort to feed himself and when he announces he’s done after a few bites, Phil manages to coax him into finishing most of the rest.

“Julie, love? Have we got any T-O-Y-S?”

“I know my letters,” Gary announces loudly.

“I know, I was just testing you,” Phil says calmly, “what did I say?”

“I—I can’t read yet,” Gary mutters.

“We’ll work on it, Gaz, don’t worry, we’ll work on your letters and numbers. Counting and reading, monkey-boy. You’re a smart little boy, you’ll catch on right quick. Now, Jules?”

“I’ll look for them upstairs, and if not, then Gary and I will have a little trip to the T-O-Y S-T-O-R-E tomorrow and we’ll have to get a few things.”

Harvey and Isabella are grinning widely, glad to be part of the adult conversation.

After dinner, Gary’s energy levels drop a little, and he gets a little clingier, so Phil watches a bit of football with a sleepy toddler on his lap, and after half an hour or so, takes him upstairs for a warm bath and to get ready for bed.

There’s an incident during bathtime when Gary gets a bit of shampoo in his eyes, and whatever corporate suit had advertised the bottle as “no more tears” was clearly lying, judging by the crying fit Gary’d had over the mild discomfort.

Phil dries him off and gets him dressed in a pair of pajamas before handing him his dinosaur-handled toothbrush. After Gary has a go at brushing his own teeth and doesn’t quite manage it to a satisfactory level, Phil tilts his little chin upwards and brushes for him, probably more attentively than he brushes his own teeth, and helps him rinse out the fluoride-free children’s toothpaste. He goes to the bathroom, to help reduce the chance of a nighttime accident, and manages to convince Gary to try the pullups—for the night, at least. Just in case.

Julie’s made up the bed for him, in a corner of their bedroom and he’s maddeningly grateful for his perfect, wonderful, beautiful angel of a wife. It’s an air mattress, pressed against the wall, with a pillow wall on the other side, so there’s no chance of falling off. The one foot drop isn’t likely to hurt Gary, but it might scare him, and Julie had always been a bit of an overprotective mother. Perhaps most reassuringly, the air mattress is big enough for Phil to fit on, too, if Gary got scared and needed company.

He’d used to climb in with their parents when he had bad dreams. Phil remembers hearing his mother tell the story—how Gary would always wake her up first and she’d just push to the side a little bit until he could fit in the space left over.

He finds an old nightlight, but it’s Isabella’s, not Harvey’s, and the bright pink star with the word _princess_ on it doesn’t fill Gary with confidence, to put it lightly.

“This is the only nightlight we have, love. It’s all we’ve got. I’ll go buy you a new one tomorrow, okay? But until then, let’s use Izzy’s, just so you’ve got some light.”

“At least this bed’s on the floor,” Gary says practically, a serious expression on his face, perfectly reminiscent of Phil’s big brother, “there can’t be any monsters if there’s no under the bed to hide in. And this way I can protect you and Julie.”

“That’s very, very nice of you, Gary. Now are we ready for bed?”

“Story!” Phil panics and looks at Julie, who’d always been the storyteller out of the two of them.

She settles onto the floor and presses a hand to Gary’s hair, stroking it gently, and spins a story about Gary the Great, a fantastic medieval knight who went round slaying dragons and rescuing beautiful princesses.

“Or handsome princes,” Phil adds hastily, remembering their conversation in the cellar.

“Gonna marry the handsomest prince ever, Daddy,” Gary mumbles sleepily, and Phil flushes slightly at the look his wife gives him.

They’re lying in bed, Phil and Julie, and Phil’s listening intently for Gary, to see if he needs anything.

“So. Have you always known and just not told me, or did you just find out?”

“What?”

“That your brother’s gay, Philip.”

“He might not be,” Phil deflects, “might like both. He dated a few girls in school, I dunno if that was just him pretending or if he really liked them.”

“That your brother’s attracted to men, then.”

Phil turns towards her and tells her the story, of being in the cellar and thinking about how lucky he’d gotten to have her, and idly telling Gary to marry a nice girl, and how he’d asked what would happen if he married a nice boy instead.

“You handled it well,” Julie says softly, when he’s finished telling her the story, and kisses him goodnight.

It’s the middle of the night when Phil feels a small hand on his shoulder. He opens his eyes slowly and looks up at Gary, standing on his tiptoes to see over the bed.

“I need to go pee-pee,” he says plainly. Phil nods and rubs his eyes, sitting up and taking him.

After they’re done, Phil settles him back into his bed and he’s just about to leave and go back to sleep when—

“Can I sleep with you and Mummy?”

The answer is no. Objectively, that’s the right answer. But Phil just doesn’t have it in him. He nods and Gary clambers into his arms. He sets him down and he immediately crawls under the covers and presses his back against Julie’s shoulder. Phil follows him into bed and somehow manages to fall asleep, despite the active little legs kicking him all night long.

He wakes with a warm, heavy weight on his chest and a small hand on his cheek, and when he opens his eyes, Gary’s looking back up at him.

“How long have you been awake, munchkin?”

“Just woke up. But I have to go pee-pee.”

Phil lifts him up and takes him to the bathroom, and after that, he’s too awake to go back to sleep, so they go down to the lounge, and Phil dozes on the sofa while the sports channel plays news footage and Gary plays pretend with Freddie-Bear, waiting for the rest of the family to wake up.

It’s Friday, Phil realizes. He’ll have to call in for Gary to MNF, tell them he’s sick. And they’d need a replacement, too, of course. He’d offer, but only if they couldn’t find anyone else. He suspected he’d be tired after four days of raising a toddler version of his elder brother. He and Julie had agreed that Izzy was the last kid, and it was no wonder that both her and Harvey were overjoyed at having a new little addition to the family, however temporary.

He rummages through the cupboards, trying to find something that Gary won’t mind eating for breakfast while he calls the MNF offices and lets them know that they’re in the midst of a family emergency. The MNF production team informs him that they’ll definitely want him instead, and Phil agrees.

He manages to find some Frosties in the pantry and after Gary’s tried one, he quite happily agrees to eat them. It’s a terrible idea—the mess with the _milk_ —but Phil negotiates down to Gary getting the lovely sugary cereal but only if Phil got to feed him. His little boy—his big brother?—agrees, and he’s sitting at the counter feeding him cereal when he realizes he has to call Carra too.

He’s already called MNF, of course, but Carra’s Gary’s friend, not just a colleague. He deserves to know. Besides, if Phil’s going to sub in for him, he’d have to arrange some times to meet up with Jamie and prepare for the show together, decide which clips to analyze.

He phones Jamie reluctantly.

“The lesser Neville? To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Hello, James. Uh, Gary can’t do the show on Monday. I’m going to sub in for him for a bit. Maybe more than a bit.”

“Why is he having his baby brother call and tell me that? Is he okay?” Jamie demands, sounding worried.

Phil hesitates. “He’s at mine. Are you at home at the minute?”

“Yeah.”

“Can you come over? Maybe for lunch or dinner?”

“Is he _okay_?”

“He’s fine.” It’s true enough, isn’t it? “He’s eating Frosties for breakfast.”

“Can I talk to him, then?”

“See, the thing is, Carra—can you just wait for lunch?”

“I could. Or you could just tell me what the fuck is going on.” Jamie sounds deeply unimpressed with Phil, and it’s hard to say anything, really, without sounding like a lunatic.

“What are you doing now, then? Come over now, and I’ll do my best to explain the situation.”

“Text me your address,” Jamie orders, and Phil agrees before they hang up.

“Gary, sweetheart, we’re going to have a visitor this morning. You’ve got to be a good boy and shake his hand and try not to be too shy, okay?”

“Okay,” Gary says, looking rather apprehensive, “can I has some milk?”

“Drink the milk at the bottom of the bowl first, and while you do that, I’ll warm it up. Do you want to pick out your mug?”

Gary nods and picks a Mickey Mouse mug that they’d gotten when they’d gone to Disneyland Paris, and Phil warms up the milk, sipping it to make sure it hasn’t gotten too hot. He makes a mental note to buy some whole milk from the store—Isabella and Harvey had switched to low-fat at some point, but Gary would need the nutrients of proper whole milk. Phil makes himself busy, getting some tea ready. He’d put the water on when Jamie got there. Julie was already gone to drop the kids off. He knows he’ll get a bit of slack because of Gary, but it _is_ technically his turn to go pick them up.

Jamie arrives an hour later, dressed casually and holding a box of chocolates. He flushes when Phil looks at them. “Dunno, you have kids, right? Better than flowers, and I’ve never visited your family before.”

Phil looks at him, oddly moved by the gesture, and waves him in.

“Harvey and Isabella are at school,” he says with a small smile, “but they’ll be grateful for these.”

He leads Jamie into the kitchen, where Gary’s sitting at the table and drawing their family.

“And who’s this little fella?” Jamie asks kindly, kneeling to get to his level. Phil approves of the move, it’s less frightening for Gary, who still goes shy and hops out of his chair, running over to Phil. He jumps up and clings to Phil’s legs until Phil bends down and picks him up.

Phil sits down, Gary still clinging to him, though his eyes catch the box of chocolates and the wariness in his eyes starts to subside, staring at Jamie with more curiosity than anything else.

“This is Gary,” he says softly.

“You’re shitting me.” Jamie’s voice is blunt. Phil rushes to cover Gary’s ears.

“ _Language_ , James. That’s a naughty word, Gary, we don’t say that word. And it’s true. This is Mr. Carragher, Gary, but you can call him Jamie, okay? Tell him your name, love, go on.”

“M’name is Gary ‘lexander Neville,” Gary says carefully.

“This isn’t funny, Phil.”

“I know,” Phil says heavily. “Can you sit here, love, and keep working on your drawing while Jamie and I have a little talk? I need to get up, though, I’ve got to make us some tea.”

“Why?”

“That’s what you do for guests, love. We make them tea and bring them some biscuits. It’s the nice thing to do.”

“Why?”

The corners of Jamie’s mouth quirk up a little, recognizing what’s about to happen.

“Because I said so, that’s why, monkey. Now draw me a pretty picture, okay? And then if you’re good, Jamie will give you a nice chocolate and we can all go play football for a little bit. Jamie’s quite good at football, you know.” Jamie grins fully at that, and a voice in Phil’s head that sounds like his brother—the brother he’d known, his grown-up Gary—refuses to let him get away with it. “Almost as good as you and me. Maybe if he practices really hard, he can be as good as us, hm?”

Gary beams at the praise and nods, wrapping his arms around Phil and pressing a surprising, but not unwelcome, kiss to his cheek before Phil settles him back on his chair and hands him back his colored pencils.

Phil gives Jamie a look and they both walk a few steps away, Phil keeping an eye on Gary as he sets about making tea.

“He woke up yesterday. Still wearing a grown man’s shirt. It was Gary’s shirt. Don’t know what happened, but he was three years old all of a sudden. Missing our parents. He even—he even mentioned me and Tracey. Said his baby brother and baby sister were a year old. He managed to phone the police, luckily, they traced the call, and a cop came and got him. They phoned me and we brought him home yesterday morning. He’s been here ever since.”

“This—this isn’t a joke, is it?” Jamie asks softly, “because Gary wouldn’t fuck around with MNF. Me, maybe, but not work. And this can’t be a joke anyway, I don’t think he’s creative enough to come up with this.”

“You tell me, James, I went out and bought pullups yesterday.”

“This kid isn’t his, then? It’s _him_?”

Phil nods. “He’s Gary. I don’t know how long he’s gonna be like this or if he’s going to just stay like this and grow up again—Jules and I are gonna have to arrange something if he stays small, some sort of paperwork. Build him a proper bedroom, instead of just an air mattress, file some paperwork saying that Gary’s gone missing…” He looks rather weary at the thought of it. “Anyway, I’m filling in for him on Monday. As long as you need me to, really. Harv’s still at the academy at Valencia, but Jules can take him and Izzy over there, but Gary is a little more comfortable with me for now, I’ve got to figure something out—“

Jamie looks at him sympathetically. “Maybe he’ll just go back to normal within a few days,” he suggests quietly.

“Either way, I’ve got to look after him until he’s an adult again, at least.”

Jamie claps a hand to Phil’s shoulder and squeezes gently. “If you ever need someone to look after him, you can phone me, okay? Can’t promise that I won’t try to convert him into a Liverpool fan, but I’ll look after him if you and your missus want to go out on a date or buy groceries or something.”

Phil nods, appreciating it more than he’d expected to. “Go on, go talk to him, I’ll get the tea ready. Just cut it out with the swearing, okay? He’s too young. And be patient with him. He’s shy.”

“You got it, Phil.” Jamie goes back to sit down next to Gary.

“What are you drawing, kiddo?”

“Dwawing our family,” Gary says proudly. There’s a man in pants and a woman in a triangular dress, and what appear to be two yellow beans on the ground. But on the other side, there’s a couple with yellow hair and a smaller boy and a smaller girl. Gary’s drawn himself in the middle, small and wearing a red shirt.

It shakes Jamie to the core. It can’t be staged. _Gary is a child_. He’s a child and he’s drawn his parents and his infant siblings on one side and Phil and Julie and their kids on the other, and there’s just no way to stage this with a kid this small.

“Can I draw with you?” Jamie asks quietly, and Gary looks him over for a long moment before he nods.

“You can draw a sun, in the corner. You have to use this yellow, okay? And blue sky, with this blue. With white clouds.”

Jamie nods and draws a sun and outlines the clouds before shading in the sky.

“Wow, you’re a good colorer,” Gary says, somewhat awed by the effortless way Jamie manages to stay inside the lines and color evenly.

Phil comes back and Gary snatches the paper from right under Jamie’s crayon, presenting it to Phil and waiting breathlessly for his reaction. He looks down at the picture and sees the stark blue line from where Jamie’s hand had been before the paper had been pulled away, and his lower lip starts wobbling.

“It’s—it’s all messed up,” he says softly, taking the paper back from Phil and looking at it sadly. His eyes start to fill, and he suddenly, viciously crumples the paper and throws it at the ground before throwing his arms around Phil’s neck and bursting into tears.

“It’s not messed up, love. It’s not messed up at all. I _love_ it. I wish you hadn’t done that, sweetheart, I wanted to put it up on the fridge—“

Gary quiets down a little bit, looking up at Phil, who gently wipes the tears off his cheeks. “I—I can make ‘nother one?” he offers, hand drifting to his mouth.

Phil pulls it away and brings him another piece of paper. “Now, sweetheart, when you’re coloring with someone, you can’t snatch the paper away, okay? It’s not nice, and it’s going to make a mistake, like you did on that first page. So you’ve gotta tell Jamie when you’re done and he’ll stop coloring.”

Gary nods absently, already coloring another picture. Phil hands Jamie his cup of tea and sips carefully at his own before leaning down to the side and picking up the crumpled ball of paper and flattening it on the table. His eyes soften at the image and his breath catches in his throat.

“Is this Phil and Tracey, love?” he asks quietly, pointing at the two yellow beans.

“Yeah, they have yellow blankets, see?”

“I see, love, I see their blankets. And could you tell me which one is Phil and which one is Tracey?” Gary chews on his lower lip and stares at the picture before seemingly picking one at random. “That one’s Phil,” he says firmly, “he’s quieter. Tracey’s loud. Daddy says it’s because she’s a girl, but there are girls in my school and some of them are loud but some of them are quiet too. Are all girls loud, Daddy?”

“No, sweetheart, some girls are loud and some aren’t. Same as some boys are loud and some boys aren’t.”

“Baby Phil isn’t loud. He laughs when I make farting sounds on his belly, though. Daddy? I miss baby Phil.” Gary starts sniffing, the new picture suddenly abandoned. “I miss Phil and Tracey and Daddy and _Mummy_ ,” he says again. “When are they gonna come back? I _promise_ I’ll be good this time! I won’t do any bad things or scare the babies by accident and make them cry, and I’ll put away my toys, and I’ll do _anything_ , Daddy, if they just _come home!_ ” Gary starts crying again, and Phil’s heart is breaking in his chest.

It’s suddenly hard for Jamie to watch, knowing that Gary’s just been as good as orphaned, as far as he can tell.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Phil croons soothingly, holding Gary tight and rocking him slightly back and forth, “I know you miss them. I know you do. I do too. I miss them too.”

Phil’s eyes look a little wet and lost, and Jamie realizes that he’s just lost his brother, and his dad had died a couple of years ago, and his mother and sister must feel a world away. He must feel alone, too, dealing with this all by himself.

“I know you miss them,” Phil says again, pressing kisses into Gary’s hair, “but I love you, okay? I love you just the same as if you were my baby.”

Gary’s still crying, but manages a wet-sounding “wuv you too, Daddy.”

Phil starts stroking his back, slowly, hoping he might drift off to sleep.

Gary sounds drowsy when he speaks up a few minutes later. “Sleepy, Daddy.”

“I know, munchkin. Go ahead and have a nap.”

It takes awhile before either man is comfortable enough to say anything.

Finally, Phil laughs wetly. “This is the sort of situation where I’d call Gary for help,” he confesses quietly, leaning down and pressing another kiss to the sleeping toddler’s hair. “Always called Gary to help, and he always did. Took the mick, but he always helped. He’d know what to do.”

He smiles, more fragile than Jamie knows how to handle.

“He seems a good kid,” Jamie says quietly.

“He is. Always was. Bit of a mummy’s boy, for awhile. Mum was so gentle with him, always ready to listen. She was like that for all of us, still is. But Dad… he did love us. He loved us a lot, but Gary was the first, and a boy, he was under a lot of pressure, to get a good contract, bring home good money and grades. Had to be a man, had to be brave, had to set a good example for me and Tracey... Dad didn’t mind giving us a leathering now and then, either—you know how it was back then, James—but I guess Gary must have changed, somewhere along the way. Used to sort of go blank sometimes, wouldn’t let on that he was feeling anything, pretended he didn’t hurt when he did…” Phil goes quiet, wondering if their father had been part of the reason that Gary’d never told any of them that he’d liked boys.

“I don’t remember what he was like before that,” he admits, “I just—I just thought he was _always_ like that, until now, until I’ve got him here, and he’s so _open_ , wants as many cuddles and kisses as he can get, and I just—I never knew that about him, that’s all.” Phil turns away and swipes at one of his eyes and Jamie doesn’t say a damn thing, but he wishes with his entire heart that he could take all the pain away, from both Neville brothers. He reaches forward and strokes Gary’s hair gently, and Phil smiles at him.

“You’re a really good dad, Phil,” Jamie says quietly, “I know your dad did the best he could with you lot, but Gary will be different this time, with you around. No disrespect to your dad, but I think you’ll do a better job. Maybe it’s a good thing, even. He can grow up again, be happier this time round. Besides, God knows United could always use a decent right-back.” Phil chokes out a laugh and clutches Gary tight.

“He and Freddie-Bear are United fans, did you know? Already. Fred would be devastated. Flintoff, y’know? Harvey named his bear after him when he was a kid. He’s an Arsenal fan, he’d be so disappointed to learn his namesake went for United instead.” He rocks Gary slightly.

“I wouldn’t mind having you as a co-host,” Jamie says quietly, “if he stays like this for awhile. I wouldn’t mind having you in. Maybe he could run around on set, grow up watching us. He’s your shadow, pretty much, isn’t he? Wouldn’t want you leaving for days at a time to film, so you could bring him along. The staff would proper melt over him if they met him.”

Phil smiles a little bit, looking down at the dark-haired boy in his lap. “At least until he’s in school.” It’s more a daydream than anything else, taking Gary around with him, keeping him in sight where he’d be safe rather than letting him run round alone or making him stay home with Julie and the kids. “Harvey’s at the Valencia academy, though. They’d have to be over there, we live there most of the time, unless I have shows to do.”

Jamie stays, for whatever reason. He stays for a long while, talking quietly with Phil until Gary wakes up again, rubbing at his eyes where he can still feel the salt from the tears on his skin. Phil lets him do it at first, but he keeps rubbing and itching at the skin until it starts to redden, and that’s when Phil lifts him up and carries him over to the kitchen sink.

“Close your eyes and mouth, sweetheart, let’s wash your face, get you all clean.” Gary squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a soft gasp at the feeling of the cool water on his skin, though he stays still and lets Phil dry his face with a napkin before he’s set back on the ground. “Feel better, munchkin?”

Gary nods, suddenly very, very awake, and hugs Phil’s legs. “Pick up, Daddy?”

“Not right this second, monkey. I’ve got to go make a phone call. You go hang out with Jamie, okay? I’ll be back in a minute.”

Phil goes off to phone Tracey, finally tired of dealing with all of this alone and wanting her here. They’d always been close, him and Tracey. Something about the way she bragged about being the big sister and acted like it, too, sometimes. Something about the shared experience of dealing with their parents, of dealing with being Gary’s younger siblings. Tracey’s just incredible and capable and she’s good with kids, and telling her, even if she can’t come over right away, will make him feel better—he knows it.

Gary nods and walks back over to Jamie.

“You talk funny.”

Jamie grins. “That’s because I’m from Liverpool. We talk differently than people from Manchester.”

Gary looks thoughtful for a moment. “I like it. I like how you say words funny.”

Jamie’s smile widens and he holds out his arms to Gary to see if he wants to be picked up. “Wanna draw some more, kiddo?”

Gary considers it, but shakes his head. “Can we play with Freddie-bear?” He looks around and realizes that Freddie bear isn’t within the immediate vicinity, and his lower lip starts to wobble again. Jamie recognizes the signs.

“You must’ve left him around here, Gary,” he says softly, picking the little boy up and carrying him about to find the bear, forgotten on the floor near the sofa. He sits on the ground and Gary settles down next to him, introducing him to Freddie-bear.

“He’s our guest, Fweddie,” he says softly, “so we’ve got to give him some tea!” He holds out a hand, cupped as he offers it to Jamie, who obligingly takes the imaginary cup and blows on the tea, mumbling about how hot it is before he takes a sip.

“Oh, this is the best tea I’ve ever tasted!” he says, watching Gary smile bashfully.

Phil comes looking for them a few minutes later, looking worn.

“You alright?” Jamie asks him quietly, “do you want me to take him out for a bit? Buy him ice cream or something?”

“No,” Phil says without thinking, “I just want him close—he gets scared, he isn’t the best about knowing when he has to use the bathroom, he wants cuddles. Jules said he’s attached to me, and I dunno if that’s true, but—“

“He loves you, Phil,” Jamie says kindly, “Gary, don’t you love Daddy?”

“Yes! Lots and lots!” Gary says eagerly, clambering onto the sofa and climbing into Phil’s lap to nuzzle against his chest with Freddie-bear in one hand and Phil’s shirt in the other.

“Love you more,” Phil says playfully, kissing the little boy who’s feeling more and more like his own son.

“Love you a HUND’ED!” Gary says triumphantly.

Phil just laughs and holds him closer. “Love you a thousand, monkey!”

“Love you a—a— this much!” Gary holds out his arms as far as they can go and Phil thinks his heart might explode with how much he loves this child. It’s different from his own kids in how fast it’s come on—he’d expected his kids, kissed them when they were babies, they hadn’t just dropped into his life, already able to talk. But Gary’s endearing, and Phil can’t help but fall in love with him.

“One day, you’re gonna be too big to sit in my lap,” he warns, though he’s happy to have Gary there now.

“No I won’t! I’m staying little forever!”

Phil catches Jamie’s eye, both of them sharing a look as Phil steers the conversation off to something else. 


	2. Chapter 2

That night, Phil puts Gary to bed and kisses him goodnight and tells him Cinderella except with Cinderella being a man—suddenly it’s crucially important for him to have Gary know in his bones that it’s perfectly normal to love whoever he loves. He half-considers going online and buying a picture book about two boys falling in love, but he figures he’s got a little while before he runs out of fairy tales, and hopefully Gary would grow out of picture books sooner rather than later.

He wakes to a hand patting his cheek. “Uh, Dad? I got big,” says the voice softly, and when he wakes up, Gary’s about twice the size he was when he’d put him to bed, about seven years old, and the clothes that looked so comfy before now look agonizingly tight on him—where they aren’t already ripped. “I’ll get the scissors,” Phil says sleepily, nudging Julie awake and asking her to go get something of Harvey’s for Gary to wear.

He cuts the tattered remnants of the space pajamas off Gary’s body, suddenly slimmer and less soft, and he almost wishes for his little boy back again. It’s ridiculous, that he misses Gary climbing in his lap and calling him Daddy and loving him a hundred, but he does. He wants to kiss Gary’s belly again, wants to hear the way his little boy had giggled… He swallows hard, and hands Gary some clothes before he goes in to have a shower and if he maybe cries a little bit, then nobody has to know.

Gary’s sitting easily at the kitchen table with Harvey and Isabella when he wakes up, eating his cereal and talking without the little boy-lisp he’d had before. He’s chattering to Julie about things, trying to negotiate a trip to the park in exchange for his good behavior.

Phil smiles at his family and offers to take the kids to school today, since Jules had taken them the day before.

He doesn’t say that it’s because maybe he’s having a little bit of trouble connecting to this Gary, this older boy who doesn’t need him as much. When he comes back afterwards, Julie’s got Gary watching cartoons, and she pulls him aside for a private conversation.

“Talk to me,” she says simply.

“I miss him.” Phil doesn’t know who he misses more, his grownup Gary, who’d protected him from the lads in the dressing room and encouraged him to go where he was most wanted, even if it meant leaving United, or his sweet baby boy who drew him a picture of their family and called him Daddy and gave the most wonderful hugs.

It’s hard to reconcile the two of them as one person in his head, and frankly, Phil doesn’t even care how it happened, he just wants it to be over, wants his Gary back, whichever one that is, and wants things to just be steady for a little while.

“He’s still Gary,” Julie says softly, wrapping her arms around him, “he’s still your brother, Phil. I know he’s not as little anymore, but he still needs you.”

“As a brother or as a father?”

And that is the crux of the question, really.   
\---

He sits Gary down, across the table from him. “Gary, love, do you remember being a grownup ever?”

Gary looks at him quizzically. “Dad? I don’t understand—“

“Do you remember when you were little and you woke up all by yourself in that big house?” Phil asks gently, “and then you came to live with us?”

“I don’t remember exactly—I was little, but I remember you coming to the police station and picking me up and holding me in the car. Felt safe,” Gary says softly.

“And do you remember your baby brother and baby sister?” Phil’s on the edge of losing his nerve, of letting Gary just keep living in ignorance. Part of him wants to wait, wants to wait until Gary gets older, until he’s a teenager again—maybe then the memories would come back on their own. He hoped they would. But he just needs to know what Gary remembers.

“My baby brother and baby sister?”

“Phil and Tracey, Gary. Do you remember them?”

Gary nods, suddenly smiling widely. “I love them! Tracey’s so much fun, she runs and plays with me and Phil. Phil can be shy sometimes, Tracey always looks after him, and whenever I push him over, she gets so mad! One time she put a frog in my bed because I pushed him over. Mum says I should be more gentle, but Dad says he’s got to learn how to play with bigger boys, because there’s always someone bigger—“ He pauses, looking surprised at the rush of words coming out from his mouth.

“Dad? I—I, uh, I remember another dad. Why do I remember another dad?”

Phil holds out his arms, and Gary obediently hops up from his chair and walks over to sit in his lap. He’s so big, Phil muses, and his body isn’t squishy and perfectly huggable like it was when he was littler. Still he holds him close.

“You were a grownup, love,” he starts awkwardly, unsure of how to tell the story, “you were my big brother, actually. Tracey’s all grown up, and I’m Phil. I’m your little brother, Gary. But you got small the other day, and we brought you home, so Julie and me could take care of you.”

Gary looks up at him. “Then where are my real mum and dad?”

Phil doesn’t have the words. “Mum’s old, Gary. She’s too old to take care of a little kid, I didn’t want her to worry. She’s okay, though.”

“And Dad?”

Phil swallows past the lump in his throat. Things with his father had never been the same after the arrest, after the affair, if that’s what it was. He’d lost a lot of respect for him that day. But the little boy in his arms doesn’t know that his father had cheated on his mother. He doesn’t even know that his father is dead.

“Dad passed away, Gary,” Phil says softly, “he was old and sick and so God took him up to heaven, so he could be young and happy and healthy again.” Phil’s got his own doubts, both about religion in general and whether his father would qualify for heaven at all—adultery was a pretty hefty sin, after all. But Gary didn’t need to know that.

He looks confused. “Dad is gone? Why can’t he come back? He should come back!”

Phil’s heart aches in his chest. “He can’t come back, love. Once you go to heaven, you can’t come back down to earth. It’s a rule. And dads never break rules, love, so we’ll wait and then one day, we’ll go up and see him again, and he’ll be so happy to see us.”

Gary nods, looking confused. He only half-remembers his other dad anyway, and Phil’s here, holding him close, and it doesn’t matter that he’s a brother and not a dad. He’s still Gary’s dad.

“Am I gonna get big again?” Gary asks softly, “like I did last night? Is that gonna happen again?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart. We’ll put you to bed in some of Harvey’s clothes or some of mine, even—how’d you like that? You can wear one of my old kits to sleep, if you want, and then you’ll have the nicest dreams, dreams about scoring the winning goal in a final and lifting up a trophy—“

Gary’s excited suddenly, the possibility of wearing Phil’s clothes pushing out the thought that he’d been a grownup once, that his other father, his real father (though it didn’t feel like that at the minute) was gone.

“Love you, Dad,” Gary says, with a wide, easy smile.

Phil tries to remember him saying those words to their real father, and he can’t. They hadn’t been a family where they really said those things, and only Tracey had really hugged their dad growing up.

And here Phil was, thinking his feelings about the man couldn’t get any more complicated.

Julie comes home and all three of them work together to find Gary some clothes that fit him, and then Gary spends half an hour patiently looking at all of Phil’s old kits and wondering which one to wear to bed, even though it’s barely two in the afternoon. Julie picks the kids up and they come home to find Gary taking penalties on Phil again.

The difference is stunning. There aren’t any more tears. Gary’s tough, determined. If Phil saves one—and he does save them now and again, he’s not holding back as much as before—then Gary frowns, almost growling. His little face grows tight with focus and he shoots the next one, and Phil nearly always lets that one in. He’s had kids, after all. The first miss doesn’t hurt them, and neither does the second, but they can’t keep losing or they’ll want to quit.

The rest of the day is uneventful—Izzie has to do her exercises, Harvey’s doing his homework and then some little football drills in the garden, Gary’s coloring or reading. He sees Phil helping Izzie with a pullup and demands the same treatment, and Phil laughs, lifting him up to the bar and reducing the amount of support he’s giving him.

“Can you pull yourself up, Gary? Try as hard as you can, and if you can’t do it, I’ll help you out a bit.”

Gary tries three times, legs kicking out to try to make it easier to get up, and on the fourth try, he gets it and immediately lets go. It’s reflexes and reflexes alone that allow Phil to catch him.

“That was hard!”

“I know, buddy, but you’ve got to keep trying, and they’ll get easier as you get stronger. If you wanna be a professional footballer, you’re gonna need to keep working at it.”

Gary nods, but after that, he’s content to watch most of the exercises, though he joins in for jumping jacks and jogging in place and all the stretching. He keeps wanting to help when Phil helps Izzie stretch. Phil bites the bullet and shows the little boy how to stretch himself instead, showing him how to bend his foot back and helping him lift his leg to stretch his hamstrings.

That night, Phil tucks Gary in and reads him a storybook, about a frog and a toad who are friends with all the forest creatures.

“Are you too big for a kiss goodnight?” he asks hesitantly, looking down at his brother.

Gary doesn’t say anything, as if he’s gone shy all of a sudden. Eventually, he shakes his head and Phil kisses his forehead, surprised when Gary throws his arms around him and hugs him tight. A rush of warmth goes through him, and the discomfort about Gary being bigger and needing him less is all gone. He’s still Phil’s little boy.

“Love you, munchkin. Now lay back, lemme tuck you in again, and then we’ll head off to dreamland—“

\---

As Phil had half-suspected, Gary does grow a little more. He’s about the size of a ten year-old Harvey, though they can’t quite be sure how old he actually is.

When Phil wakes up, he’s already downstairs, helping himself to some cereal and milk, with none of the clumsiness of his younger selves. He’s just calmly watching cartoons and eating his breakfast. “Morning, Dad,” he says when he sees Phil in the doorway, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Good morning, Gary. I see we’ve had another growth spurt,” Phil says, smiling as he remembers that Gary had always been a morning bird, even when they were growing up. He can remember this Gary, though looking up to him as a eight year old and looking down at him as a forty something are nearly polar opposites.

He ruffles Gary’s hair and settles down next to him, both of them watching cartoons, laughing when Bugs Bunny tricks Daffy. Eventually Phil gets up and starts on his own breakfast and eggs and toast for the kids and Julie’s morning smoothie (he makes enough for two, because it’s not just Julie’s morning smoothie).

“Alright, I’m gonna go see what Harvey and Izzie are doing and wake them up, and it’s Jules’ turn to take them to school today, so we can have a lazy day, you and me, okay?”

Gary grins. “Can I have Nutella toast?”

“You just ate your cereal!”

“Still hungry,” Gary says with a shrug.

Phil laughs and nods. “You are still growing,” he concedes, “okay, after Harv and Izzie go off to school. We won’t tell Jules, okay?” he says confidingly. Gary grins up at him and nods, zipping his lips.

Phil’s struck by the sudden thought that he’ll miss him. He’ll be happy to have grown-up Gary back, but he’ll miss his little boy. Because that’s what Gary is now. He’s bigger and older, but he’s still that sweet little boy who wanted to sleep next to Daddy to chase the nightmares away. The thought makes him unexpectedly emotional, and he clears his throat and gets up, starting to make himself some coffee just to have something to do.

He’ll process this when Gary’s all grown up again and doesn’t need him anymore, he decides, looking forward to laying in bed with Julie and telling her everything.

Julie and the kids come down shortly afterwards. “The Neville boys,” she says with a smile, bending down to kiss Gary’s forehead and then leaning up to press a kiss to her husband’s cheek, “up at the crack of dawn, why am I not surprised?”

Gary’s beaming at the comparison, and something in Phil aches, remembering how Gary had idolized their father, how he’d always wanted to live up to his example.

Julie takes the kids out to school and Phil makes Nutella toast for himself and Gary, and they sit on the sofa and munch while watching more cartoons. Gary’s leaning against him just slightly, and Phil wouldn’t move for the world.

Of course, that’s when his phone rings, rousing a half-asleep Gary, who lets out an unhappy grunt when Phil carefully gets up and goes to the kitchen to talk, away from the cartoon explosion that’s going on behind him.

It’s Jamie Carragher, of all people, because apparently one visit from the man wasn’t enough.

“Can I come over tomorrow to talk about the show?”

“Yeah, alright,” Phil agrees, “and—Gary’s gotten bigger, so don’t act shocked, okay? I think he’ll be back to normal within a couple of weeks, probably.”

“That’s good news. I was just getting used to his face,” Jamie says, with something almost like fondness in his voice, “it’d be a shame to lose him now that we can stand each other.”

Phil smiles and looks back into the lounge, where Gary’s lying down in the warm spot where Phil had been before he’d left, eyes bleary as he watches the telly. “I wouldn’t mind, having him like this, y’know,” he confesses, “but he’s going to get bigger, I wouldn’t worry about him staying small for too long. One or two shows with me, that’s all you’ve got to suffer through, James.”

Jamie laughs, warm and rich, and they say goodbye.

Phil heads back into the lounge. “Do you wanna stay here or go up to bed, love?” he asks softly, lifting Gary’s head and sitting back in his original spot with Gary’s head in his lap. He strokes at Gary’s hair for a little while, waiting for an answer, only to see his little boy fast asleep.

He clicks off the television and slowly, carefully lifts Gary into his arms, grateful that Gary’s still small enough to be carried, and that he himself is still strong enough to carry him. Gary wraps an arm around his neck and lets out a quiet exhale, turning his head into Phil’s chest and reminding him painfully of three-year-old Gary.

He carries him up the stairs and gently lays him down on his airbed. “Sleep tight, kiddo,” he whispers, kissing Gary’s forehead and going to pull away.

“Stay, Daddy,” Gary mumbles, holding him tight.

So Phil does. That’s where Julie finds him, laying down next to his brother and stroking his hair, eyes open.

“Morning bird got sleepy,” she whispers to him, looking at the little boy. He smiles at her weakly and she can’t help but see the toll this is taking on her husband.

“We’ll talk tonight,” she says quietly, in her usual, gentle way, but Phil knows it’s not a request so much as statement of fact. He nods.

She kisses him, too, a soft peck on the forehead, just like he’d given Gary minutes before, and hands him an extra pillow from their bed. “I’ll wake you up in an hour or so.”

“I love you,” Phil whispers, meaning it with every fiber of his being, “I don’t know how I could’ve handled this without you, Jules. I love you so much.”

“Love you too, Philip. Have a good siesta, love.”

He doesn’t quite mean to fall asleep, but he does, and when Julie comes back in an hour and a half later, Gary’s just stirring.

“Wake up, sweetheart,” Julie says softly, sitting on the carpet next to them and stroking Gary’s hair until he wakes up, “it’s time for lunch, and you won’t be able to sleep tonight if you nap all day.”

“Mu-um,” Gary groans, eyes opening slowly, “I’m up, I’m up.”

It’s the first time he’s called Julie that, and it moves her more than she’d expected. He’d been so close to Phil, for obvious reasons—she’s watched nature documentaries and he’s just like a duckling that’s imprinted on his mum with Phil and she hadn’t envied him that. But it’s nice to know that this little boy that she loves cares for her, too.

“Come on, I’m not Dad, I can’t carry you about, you’re too big,” she coaxes, until Gary slowly sits up, the motion shifting the air mattress enough to wake Phil.

“Huh? I’m up, love, I promise—“ he says drowsily, rubbing his eyes.

Gary lets out a little giggle and Phil just grabs him and squeezes him tight, half-wrestling him. “Laughing at your dad, huh? You’re laughing at me, little man?!” Gary giggles as they roughhouse for a few moments until Julie reminds them that food is downstairs.

Gary’s in a thoroughly good mood that day, and they play football in the afternoon and then they play FIFA, when it starts raining, and he obligingly sits in the car while Phil picks up Harvey and Izzie from school. He reads a book with Julie while Phil’s busy supervising Izzie’s exercises and Harvey’s busy with his schoolwork.

“How about you and Harv share a room tonight, Gaz? You’re getting a bit too big to share with Mum and Dad,” Phil says gently.

Gary can hardly contain his excitement. Over the past few days, he’s rather started to idolize Harvey, almost as much as he has Phil, and having the chance to room with his cool older brother seems like an incredible privilege.

Harvey looks a bit hesitant about it, but one look from his mother and he’s excited too. He’s never had this feeling before, having a little brother who looks up to him so much. Izzie had been different—she’d gone the opposite way, and the cerebral palsy meant that a lot of his interests were hard for her to participate in. So having Gary look up at him with wide, admiring eyes is an altogether new experience.

“Harvey, do you and Gary want to go upstairs and start moving his air mattress into your room?” Julie suggests, and he nods, heading upstairs with Gary trailing behind him, chattering on about some cartoon he’d watched with Phil.

“Have you told Tracey?” Julie asks when they’re gone.

Phil sighs. “Yeah. We talked a couple days ago. How’d you feel about having her over for dinner tonight, love? Have her meet him at least. Maybe it would be good for him to have someone other than us and the kids.”

She agrees and starts delegating tasks. Izzie’s responsible for cutting up some salad, Harvey and Gary set the table and stir anything they’re asked to stir and make a salad dressing under close supervision. Phil mans the grill and cooks the one thing he’s confident about—steaks.

Gary’s a bit shy when Tracey arrives, and Phil can see his twin doing her absolute best to school her expression. The dinner goes well enough, and Gary tolerates being hugged and kissed on the forehead and talked to and talked about and sometimes maybe a little bit talked _at_.

That doesn’t mean Phil isn’t having mercy on both his siblings when he suggests that the kids head upstairs and start winding down and getting ready for bed while the grownups have a chat. “About politics and other grown-up things.”

“I’m for Labour,” Gary says sagely as he heads up, nodding his head as Tracey fights the urge to burst into laughter.

“Good man,” Julie says seriously, as Phil smiles, “now head on up, Gary. You don’t have to go to bed quite yet, but get changed into your pj’s and brush your teeth. I’m going to check, and if your breath isn’t minty fresh, I’ll have to brush them myself.”

Gary looks suitably horrified at that idea, and heads up immediately.

“I can’t believe it,” Tracey whispers, once he’s out of earshot, “I can’t believe it—that’s him, Phil, that’s Gary, that’s our brother! He’s what, ten? Our older brother is ten years old all of a sudden—I’m going to be honest with you, it’s really freaking me out—“

“He used to be three,” Phil says quietly, “woke up three, and he’s aged up since then. Hopefully he’ll be back to his normal age in a couple of weeks. And Tracey, you need to know that he’s gay. Maybe. Or he’s bisexual, possibly? But he likes boys, and we’re raising him to be okay with that, so if he gets back to being an adult and starts dating a man, you need to not be shocked or horrified or disappointed or anything like that.”

“ _Gary?!_ Gary likes _men?!_ God, it’s one shock after another. There’s nothing wrong with it, you know I’m not homophobic, but I just—you know someone your whole life, you sort of think you’d catch on to that sort of thing, you know? I wasn’t expecting any life-altering announcements from someone I’ve known for forty years.”

“I was surprised too,” Phil confesses, “we found out that first day, when he asked what would happen if he married the smartest, prettiest boy he could find.”

“And you didn’t freak out, did you?!”

“Not on the outside, at least. Told him that would be fine, as long as they loved each other and the boy was nice to him.”

“Who else knows?”

“About Gary being gay or about Gary being a little kid?”

“The second one, Philip. Honestly, Julie, I feel bad for you sometimes, I know you love him to bits, but surely you could’ve done better—“

“Tracey Anne—“ Phil starts.

“Simmer down, it’s time to talk about Gary,” Julie says soothingly, “I think Tracey meant about Gary being small again.”

“Right. Just me, you, the kids, and Jamie Carragher.”

“Right. And why does the Scouser know, exactly? Sort of a family matter, this, isn’t it?”

“Carra’s his friend. Might even be his best friend at this point. And I’m doing the show with him, we needed to tell him the truth, he wouldn’t just believe that Gary was ill.”

They talk about it for a little while longer and eventually, Tracey heads home, and Phil and Julie head up to bed.

They brush their teeth and get changed and once they’ve checked that the kids are sleeping, they crawl into bed themselves, Phil hugging his wife close. She brushes her fingers through his hair.

“Talk to me, Philip,” she says softly.

“I miss Gary,” Phil whispers, “I miss Gary, Jules. He was the person I’d go to when I wanted advice. On everything. When I was gonna propose to you, when we found out we were having Harvey, when we found out that Izzie had CP—he was always my first phone call.”

He finds himself unexpectedly choked up.

“I want to call my big brother,” he whispers, “and I can’t, and I hate that, Jules. I _hate_ that. And—he was so small and I love him so much, and he keeps _changing_ and getting bigger. It’s like I have to relearn how to be with him every single day. How to be his dad, how to be his brother, how to be his friend. How to talk to him, if he’s going to want to cuddle or want a kiss goodnight, or all of that. With Harv and Izzie it was so easy, Jules, they were slow and steady and we had time—I just want _time_ —“

He’s crying in earnest now, tears coming steadily as he stop trying to manage his emotions and just lets them out. “Sorry,” he whispers when he’s done, an old habit.

“Don’t you dare apologize to me, love,” Julie says, and her voice is quiet, but fierce. “I know how you grew up, I know that Gary’s more open this time round because of you and me. Don’t apologize for having a heart. That was what made me fall in love with you, Phil. You always had the biggest heart of anyone I’d ever known.”

Phil’s breath slows back to being even. He hums softly. “Thought it was the six pack that made you fall for me,” he jokes, just to hear his wife laugh.

It’s still the most beautiful sound in the world, Julie’s laugh.

They share a few kisses and Phil drifts off, exhausted, only to be woken up a hand on his shoulder.

“Dad, Dad, wake up—“ It’s Harvey’s voice, and it’s urgent, and Phil’s first thought is that the house is on fire, and he instinctively checks for Julie. “Izzie and Gary, Harv, are they—“ He pauses, and realizes that nothing’s burning. His son is just nudging him awake.

“Dad, please, it’s Gary—“

His heart stops. Phil’s heart physically stops in his chest, and he flings the covers back and runs over to Harvey’s room, throwing the door open and rushing over to him.

Gary’s sweating, thin blanket tangled around his legs, and he’s moaning quietly, whimpering in pain. “Dad—“ he says softly, when he sees Phil, reaching for him instinctively, “dad, it hurts—it hurts so much, Dad, why does it hurt so much?”

Phil very nearly panics, but manages to keep it at bay. “What hurts, love? Tell me, Gary, tell Dad what hurts, and then we’ll find a way to fix it.”

“My legs,” Gary whispers, “it’s my legs, they hurt—“

Phil tries to soothe him as best he can as a sleepy Julie walks into the room.

“What’s wrong, babe?” she asks groggily.

“It’s Gary’s legs, they’re hurting. Okay, son, is the ache in your muscles or in your bones?”

“Muscles.”

“Okay, love, be patient for me, please, let’s get you out of this blanket and we’ll try to see what’s going on—“

When he and Julie finally get the blanket free, the answer isn’t immediately obvious. There’s nothing wrong with Gary’s legs—they’re not broken, and once they get him down to his boxers, they can’t see any bruising, either.

“Phil, did you and Tracey ever get growing pains?” Julie suggests, seeing that Harvey’s sleeping pants are slightly short on Gary now, when they’d been long enough that they’d needed to roll them up several times when they’d put him to bed.

Phil curses. Harvey gapes at him, and he remembers that he does his best not to swear in front of the children. He blames his sleepiness.

“Yeah. We all did. Okay, I know what to do. Harv, go get me a damp washcloth, soak it in cold water and then wring it out, that’ll help, and Gary, I’m gonna do my best to help with the pain, okay? It’s just your muscles growing, that’s why it hurts so much. Alright, buddy, turn over, we’ve got to stretch your quads to start out with.”

Gary turns over and when Phil lifts his foot and bends it back to meet his backside, Gary lets out a choked groan. “Hurts, Dad,” he complains.

“I know, baby, I know it hurts,” Julie says soothingly, letting him rest his head in her lap and stroking his hair, “but we’re gonna try to make it hurt less.”

“Mum,” Gary whispers, “Mum, why won’t it go away? Why won’t the pain go away?” It breaks Julie’s heart, and she looks over at her husband.

“Is there anything else we can try?”

“We’ll get him a hot water bottle, maybe a hot bath to try to relax the muscles, but stretching and massage will be best to start,” Phil says authoritatively, “that’s what Mum used to do for us when we were younger.”

He stretches both of Gary’s quads and his calves before having him turn over and stretching his hamstrings.

“Okay, love, so now we’re gonna take it in turns to stretch and massage and that should help lots,” he says tenderly, using the cool cloth to wipe away the sweat on Gary’s face and neck and laying it on his forehead. “I know it’s not fun, I just need you to breathe through it for me, that’s my brave lad.”

Gary nods and takes Julie’s hand as Phil keeps working at his legs, massaging them (with cooking oil, of all things—it was all they had). Eventually the pain eases somewhat.

“Jules, sweetheart, I think you can go back to bed,” Phil says quietly, “I’ll stay in case he needs something tonight, you go sleep.”

She nods and kisses Gary’s forehead and then Phil’s. “Come back to bed when you can—you’re my Superman, but you need to sleep too, same as me.”

Phil smiles at her and watches her go before turning back to Gary. The expression on his face is peaceful, no longer pained, and his eyes are starting to drift shut. Phil keeps massaging his legs until he falls asleep.

He’s still weighing whether to go back to bed or stay there with Gary when his son speaks. “I—I think I can do it, Dad, if he starts hurting again.” Harvey’s voice is hesitant, but he’s eager to help.

“That’s alright, Harv. You’re growing too, you need to sleep. Nice of you to offer though. I’ll just stay here, sleep on the floor with him, you go back to bed.”

“You can have my bed, then, Dad. Your back—you’ll be miserable if you sleep on the floor.”

Phil knows it’s true, and he can’t help but love his son for thinking about it.

“You sure?”

Harvey is, and so Phil agrees and pulls Harvey into a tight hug before he slides into his bed, watching Harvey settle in next to Gary on the air mattress.

That only lasts for a few hours, because this growth spurt is the biggest one Gary’s had so far, and the pain wakes him again in a couple of hours.

This time, Phil insists that Harvey take his bed back and starts working on Gary’s legs again. He sleeps next to his brother, waking before the whimpers turn into groans and massaging the sore muscles before Gary wakes. In the morning, he’s drop-dead exhausted, and he gets up when Gary’s still sleeping, stumbling into his bedroom and getting under the covers with Julie.

Julie lets him and Gary sleep in when she wakes Harvey and Isabella for school. They’re gone by the time he wakes up, and when he goes to check on Gary, he finds not the adorable ten year old he’d put to bed, but an adolescent, maybe sixteen or so, with a broad chest, sleeping in his boxers.

His chin is narrow and his cheeks are hollow and his hair is all mussed, and Phil smiles at the sight and leaves him to sleep. He makes the two of them breakfast, thinking about making Gary some coffee but deciding against it because caffeine stunts growth.

Gary arrives downstairs a few minutes later, sporting a wrinkled t-shirt and some of Phil’s trackies. “Dad, you don’t mind, do you?” he asks, though he doesn’t seem overly concerned about the answer.

He pauses when he hears himself speak. “What—what the hell? What’s happened to my voi-oice?” The crack during the final word is sufficiently horrifying that he gets up and runs to the bathroom. “ _Puberty?!_ I have to go through fuckin’ _puberty_ all over again? Really?!”

Phil snickers at his cereal, but he’s all sympathy when Gary comes out of the bathroom, looking utterly forlorn.

“Cheer up, mate, get through breakfast and I’ll teach you how to shave. The voice cracking thing—there’s not much you can do about that, if I’m honest, but you’re a very handsome young man, if that makes you feel any better.”

“I have more spots than a fucking Dalmatian,” Gary grumbles, poking at a pimple on his cheek.

Phil’s growing slightly less enthusiastic about this older Gary, who seems moody and uninterested.

“Language,” he says firmly, “if your mother hears you speaking like that, she’ll have you scrubbing your mouth out with soap. Especially if you say it around Harvey and Izzie.”

Gary mumbles something that sounds insubordinate, but Phil can’t quite make out the words, and he decides to conserve his energy—today has the makings of a marathon and he can’t be sprinting so early in the day.

“And you don’t have that many spots, Gaz, you can barely tell.”

Gary’s sulking over… something, and they have their breakfast in silence, until it’s broken by the sound of the doorbell.

“Fuck,” Phil curses under his breath.

“ _Language_ ,” Gary says mockingly, “or Mum’ll have you wash your mouth out with soap!”

“Watch your tone,” Phil says sharply, “you’re in my house, Gary, show a little respect.” He gets up and answers the door with a frown, and the sight of Jamie Carragher, looking entirely respectable in a short sleeve polo and dark jeans, doesn’t exactly cheer him up.

“Come in—sorry, we had a late night, Gary was having growing pains, and now he’s a teenager and acting like a complete—“ He breaks off the sentence as they enter the kitchen and gestures at Jamie to sit down. “I’ll get some coffee ready, yeah? I’m probably going to need it, if I’m honest.”

“Better make that coffee strong. You look like shit, Phil,” Jamie says, though the tone is not unkind.

“Careful, Da— _ad_ doesn’t like _curs_ —ing.” Gary’s voice cracks twice over the course of the sentence, so the mocking tone is sort of lost on him, and Jamie bites back his laughter, curbing it behind a smile aimed at Phil.

“You’ve grown up some since the last time I saw you, Gary,” Jamie says with a smile, “you’re looking like a proper young man now, except for that fuzz on your face. At this age, it’s better to just shave it, don’t you think, Phil?”

Gary goes beet red when Jamie smiles at him, crossing his legs tightly and focusing on his breakfast as if he’s writing a doctoral dissertation on how many flakes of cereal he’s got in his bowl.

“I was gonna show him how, after breakfast,” Phil says, not seeing Gary’s flushing. He pours out the coffee.

“Can I have some?” Gary asks, lips quirking upwards as the whole sentence comes out in a man’s voice, without a single crack.

“Coffee? At your age? Not unless you want to stay this height forever, Gary Alexander Neville. Coffee stunts your growth. Get yourself some milk, that’ll help with your bones and the protein will be good for your muscles.”

Gary looks embarrassed all of a sudden. “I’m not a child,” he mutters.

“You were ten years old yesterday and you’re sixteen today. You might not think you’re a child, but you are,” Phil says bluntly, not in the mood to deal with teenage attitude.

Gary rolls his eyes and deliberately leaves his dirty dishes out as he saunters off upstairs to have a shower.

“Rough night, then?”

“I was up all night massaging and stretching his legs,” Phil mutters, “I know I’m being an asshole, I’m just so exhausted. My temper always flares up when I’m exhausted.”

Jamie smiles sympathetically. “Why don’t we go sit in the lounge and drink our coffee and talk about football for a bit? Maybe that’ll take your mind off of things.”

Phil nods and they do just that. Julie comes home and says hello to Jamie and her husband, going off to do some gardening she’d wanted to do for ages. Gary comes back down after the shower, sporting just a towel. “What should I do for clothes?”

“Just take some of mine,” Phil says absently.

“What should I do for underwear, then?” Gary asks, flushing scarlet as Phil and Jamie look up at him.

Phil sighs. “We’ll go out and buy you some—ask your mum if she can—“

“I am not asking _Mum_ if she can buy me _underwear_!” Gary hisses, clutching at the towel, still flushed. “That’s so embarrassing!”

“Then ask her if there are any new packs lying around. Jamie and I are working, Gaz, we can’t just pick up and go to the store to buy you underwear. Just give me—“ Phil pauses and looks at Jamie to check with him “—an hour? Two hours? You can come back tomorrow if we need to talk about it more? Or you can just stay here while I go out and take care of this, if you don’t mind. I’m really sorry, things are just—“

“It’s fine, Phil. He’s your kid, you’ve got to look after him.”

“I’m not a kid,” Gary pipes up, “not really! I just got jinxed, or cursed, or whatever.”

Jamie looks perplexed. “But after whatever happened happened, you became a kid again,” he says slowly, “even inside. You were acting like a child. You’re still a kid now.”

“I’m actually very mature,” Gary argues, though the flush has spread down his face and neck to his chest.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re so _mature_ you can’t have your mother go buy you some underwear,” Phil mutters, getting up, “J, you’re okay to wait here with Gary the Grownup while I run to the high street and get him what he needs?”

“Sure mate, no worries, the situation isn’t exactly normal, you’ve gotta do what you’ve gotta do,” Jamie says easily, “I’ll wait here and start picking some clips for me—do you want me to pick out some for you to choose from too?”

Phil smiles, dimples suddenly appearing. “You’re a lifesaver, James, I would love that. If you could do that, that would be brilliant. And feel free to help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge, yeah? If you’re feeling peckish or something.”

“You might regret that, Neville, I’ve been known to eat my friends out of house and home!”

“I’ll take my chances,” Phil jokes, grabbing a coat and his wallet and calling Julie before he heads out.

“Why are you flirting with him?!” Gary demands as soon as he’s gone.

Jamie looks completely taken aback. “Flirting with who? With Phil? You think I’m flirting with Phil?” Jamie chuckles.

“Well, _aren’t_ you?!”

“No, Gary, I’m not. And shouldn’t you go put some clothes on? I feel like I’m going to be arrested any minute now.”

“Why? You’re not seducing me,” Gary says boldly.

Jamie raises an eyebrow. “Who said anything about anybody seducing anybody?”

Gary doesn’t quite have an answer for that. “So, are you—are you seeing someone?” he asks.

“Not at the minute, no,” Jamie says absently, watching a clip of Chelsea’s defense being torn apart.

“No girlfriend, then? Or—or boyfriend?” Gary asks hopefully, “handsome guy like you?”

Jamie laughs. “No need to take the piss, Gary, I know I’m not as handsome as your Becks, but I do alright, y’know.”

“I’m _sure_ you do,” Gary purrs, suddenly feeling confident as he sits down next to Jamie.

Jamie sniffs the air. “Are—are you wearing cologne?” He asks, nose wrinkling, “you might have gone a bit heavy on the stuff, Gaz. It’s a bit of a rite of passage, God knows I did the same when I was your age, but just a hint for the future.”

Gary’s face falls and he sighs, looking at the clip. “Fabregas should have intercepted that pass earlier. When Silva was passing it to De Bruyne, that’s where they should’ve cut it off. He was sitting too far back, and it just let them get it across the pitch and then back to Sterling.”

Jamie turns to look at him with new respect and interest. “Fabregas had to sit back,” he argues, “he was playing the holding role in front of a weak back four. If anyone’s responsible for cutting off that pass, it would be Hazard, surely.”

Gary rolls his eyes. “When’s the last time Hazard tracked back? He never does, and Fabregas should have known that and compensated.”

“Or Hazard could just give a little more to the team and be less obsessed with scoring goals. It’s his job to learn, not Fabregas’ job to cover two positions.”

They’re still talking about football when Phil comes back, throwing a shopping back at Gary. “There you go, then.” He glances at Gary and sees the tent in the front of his towel and flushes on his brother’s behalf.

“Why don’t you go change?” he suggests.

“Hang on now, he’s got some decent insights,” Jamie says, busily selecting a few players and tracking their movements.

“It’s hardly sanitary for you to be sitting on my couch basically naked—“

“Just gimme a minute, Da— _ad_ —“ Gary freezes at the crack in his voice and glances down and goes from flushed to pale as a sheet in the space of a second. “A— _ctually_ , maybe I wi— _ill_ go upstairs for a bit,” he says meekly, clutching the bag in front of his crotch as he flees the room.

“So. Chelsea-City? Could we not analyze a less fun match?” Phil jokes.

Jamie laughs. “I don’t make the rules, mate.”

Julie shows up a couple of hours later, asking if they’d like to have some lunch. “Where’s Gary?” she asks eventually, and Phil looks at her blankly.

“Upstairs? He went upstairs to get dressed a few minutes ago.”

“A couple of hours ago,” Jamie corrects, rubbing his eyes, “we’ve been at it for awhile, Nev.”

Phil sighs. “I’ll go check on him,” he mutters.

“They’re acting strange,” Julie says quietly once Phil is gone.

“Phil seems tired, and parenting a teenager isn’t easy at the best of times, let alone when you had a precious little boy yesterday and a moody teenager today,” Jamie offers, “can’t imagine the stress he’s been under since Gary got turned small, trying to figure things out.”

“He’s doing a good job, though. Even in an impossible situation, he’s doing a good job. He just misses his baby Gary. And his grown-up brother Gary. I don’t think he’s a huge fan of Gary the moody teenager, though.”

Phil and Gary don’t come down for a long while, and Jamie goes back to work. When they finally do come down, they’re both flushed and avoiding each other’s eyes.

“What took so long?” Julie asks.

“We went through how to shave. And other things,” Phil says quietly, “was hoping I’d have a few years before that yet.”

“Aww, did you two just have the talk?” Jamie asks, suddenly interested, “that’s so sweet!”

“Not sweet,” Gary grumbles, “ _awkward_. _So fucking awkward_.”

“Language, Gary,” Phil warns, “stay for lunch if you want, otherwise you can go out to the park and kick a football around for awhile.”

Gary takes the out immediately. “Can I take your football boots?”

Phil nods and ushers him away, and the front door slams behind him a minute later.

Gary’s at the park for a long time, long enough that Jamie and Phil finish their work and Jamie heads home. Phil’s just wondering where Gary is and is thinking about texting him when he remembers he hadn’t given his brother back his phone yet. He sighs and goes to the park himself to track him down.

He searches the football pitch first, and then the toilets, and he’s just about to start worrying when he sees his brother.

Pressed against a tree and being snogged senseless by a boy Phil’s never seen before. Phil feels a raw anger inside of him as he watches the boy slip a hand under Gary’s shirt and Gary just pulls him closer, leaning his head back against the rough tree bark as the boy focuses on leaving a large, dark hickey on his neck.

He approaches them, but they’re so caught up in each other that they barely notice him.

“Ahem.”

They spring apart. “Dad!” Gary whines, and the other boy pales and glances at Gary. “Call me,” he mutters, kissing Gary’s cheek and promptly walking away.

“You totally scared him off!” Gary whines, “we were having fun!”

“If I can scare him off, you can probably do better,” Phil says firmly, “and you’d been gone for a long time. Your mother was worried.”

Gary sighs and traces his lips with his fingers, eyes following the lithe figure with dark brown hair and hollow cheeks as he walks away. “He’s gorgeous, isn’t he? His name’s Jake,” he says dreamily, “attacks like a dream, he’s a brilliant striker. And he’s got the most amazing abs—“

“Alright, alright, tell me on the way home. And you can call him, if you want. I’ll give you money for a date tonight, if he says yes. As long as you remember what I said about sex and about being safe and using a condom—“

“I remember, I remember! As if I’m _ever_ going to forget the sight of you putting a condom on a banana!”

“It turns out I was right on time,” Phil says loftily as they walk in, “considering that boy nearly had his hand down your pants.”

“What boy?” Julie asks, with the same propensity she’s always had for hearing the things that would most interest her. “Is there a boy? What’s his name? Did you flirt with him?”

“If by flirt you mean made out against a tree, then yeah, they got there,” Phil mutters, making a beeline for the food.

“You kissed him? Oh, tell me everything. Was he a good kisser? Was he handsome?”

Phil suspects that if he’d asked any of these questions, he’d be shut down almost immediately. But Gary’s got a soft spot for his mother, as any boy would.

“I was playing football,” he starts, “and I was doing keepy-ups, and I lost control eventually, and there he was, y’know? He was just laying in the grass reading a book, and the ball rolled over to where he was and he got up and passed it to me, and suddenly we were playing. And then we got tired, and he had some lemonade that we shared, and we were just talking—laying in the grass and looking up at the sky and just talking, and then suddenly—I don’t know why—he just turned and looked at me and asked if he could kiss me.”

Jules lets out a soft _awww_. “And what did he look like?”

“A couple inches taller than me,” Gary concedes, “I had to lean up when I was kissing him, I was on my toes nearly the whole time. And he has dark hair, and these amazing blue eyes—they’re almost electric blue. I asked him if he was wearing colored contacts, but he said it just runs in his family, dark hair and pale eyes. And he’s got these cheekbones, Mum—and a jaw that could cut diamond, it’s so square and _manly_ —“

“Are you going to see him again?”

“I’d like to. Could I? Dad said I could take him out to dinner tonight, if it’s okay with you?”

“Oh, of course, love. Come back after, and we’ll drink tea and eat ice cream and you can tell me everything about it. But no son of mine is going to have _relations_ with someone on the first date, are we understood?”

“Yes, Mum,” Gary says obediently, “just a kiss goodnight, that’s all, I promise.”

“That’s my good boy,” Julie says fondly, “now come sit, you need to eat lunch and then if you want, we can go shopping, get you something to wear that fits you better than your dad’s things. Something to make you look handsome for your Jake.”

Gary smiles goofily at the last two words, cheeks filling with color. “My Jake. I wouldn’t mind if he was.” His expression sobers. “Not that it matters. I’ll get older so fast—Jake’s only seventeen. Can’t date him when I’m old again.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not worth having a fun time tonight, love,” Julie says softly, “you’re young, you’re allowed to have fun. Have a fun date night with this boy, and we’ll see how you are in the morning, if you keep growing.”

Gary looks over at her, eyes soft. “Love you, Mum,” he says quietly, reaching for her hand, “thank you, for being here, no matter what.”

“Love you too, Gary,” Julie says softly, “now eat up, you need protein. Hell, you need a bit of everything, the rate you’re growing. And then we’ll go buy you some new clothes.”

Phil’s glad that Julie’s taking Gary for awhile, and he’s glad that he still has a modicum of respect for at least one of his parents. When they go out, he immediately drops into bed and takes a long nap, uninterrupted until his phone alarm beeps and he has to go pick up the kids from school.

He comes back and finds Julie fussing over Gary in close-fitting dark jeans and a tight t-shirt, with a brown leather jacket on top. “Doesn’t he look perfect?” she asks with a smile, wiping her eyes, “you’ve grown up so fast!”

“Ha, ha, Mum, very funny,” Gary says sarcastically, though he’s clearly pleased with the compliment.

Julie laughs loud as Harvey and Isabella stare at Gary. “You really have gotten really big really fast,” Harvey says in awe, “you went from being my little brother to my big brother overnight!”

“And he’s got a date tonight!” Julie says proudly, “with a very pretty lad, from what I understand.”

“He was alright,” Phil agrees stiffly, “you could do better, Gaz.”

“Your father’s just being overprotective, Gary, don’t listen to him. Now, be home by midnight, okay? You never know when you’ll grow out of these clothes, too, and that won’t be easy to explain to Jake, if suddenly you’re taller than him.”

“Midnight seems a little late,” Phil objects immediately.

“Eleven-thirty then,” Julie negotiates, with a glint in her eye that tells Phil immediately that she’d been aiming for eleven thirty all along.

“Fine, eleven thirty. You’ve got your mum wrapped around your finger, Gary. Here, I promised you some money, you can take him out somewhere nice, but not _too_ nice. I don’t want to see a five hundred pound charge on this tomorrow.” He hands Gary a credit card and immediately regrets it when he sees Gary’s face light up. “And you’re taking your cell phone—I kept it in my room when you were small, but now you can have it back, call if you need something, okay? And if you’re later than eleven-thirty—we’ll have to think of some sort of punishment.”

“Thanks, Dad!” Gary says excitedly, “uh, Jake can’t drive, so would it be okay if I took the car—“

“Don’t push it.”

"...Point taken."


	3. Chapter 3

Gary comes back at a quarter to midnight, and Phil would absolutely be angry—he and Julie had been waiting for him in the lounge, and Julie’d fallen asleep waiting.

But he just has this look on his face. Like he’s the happiest man in the world, and Phil can’t find it in himself to ruin that.

“How did it go?”

“It was perfect,” Gary says quietly, “I wish I could have had him longer. If I’d had him the first time round, maybe he could’ve been the one. He’s brilliant at football, and he’s studying for his GCSE’s and he wants to go into medicine—researcher or doctor, he doesn’t know yet. I’m sorry I was late coming home, I just—I didn’t want to say goodbye just yet. Kept putting it off, and he was happy to just sit in the park and kiss me, and the moon is so bright tonight, and he showed me a bunch of constellations—“

“That really does sound like a good night, Gary,” Phil says gently, “I’m glad your first date went so well.”

  
Gary smiles faintly. “I’m going to go up to bed, Dad. I’ll take the guest room tonight, don’t want to wake Harvey up, and I’m not too keen on the air mattress for another night.”

Phil nods, eyes catching the mark at Gary’s neck. “Good night, Gaz.”

“Night, Dad.”

Phil lifts Julie up into his arms. “Gonna take you to bed, love, okay?”

She just hums and agrees, shifting to hold him. “Gary?”

“He made it home safe, babe. He’s on cloud nine, completely smitten.”

Julie smiles, still half-asleep, and he carries her upstairs and tucks her into bed.

He walks over to the guest room, and hears quiet, wet breathing. His first that is that his brother’s having a wank, and opening that particular can of worms is not worth the embarrassment at midnight.

But something about the sound is wrong, and Phil’s heart sinks when he hears a restrained sob.

He opens the door. “Talk to me, Gary,” he says gently.

Gary’s face is tear-streaked. “I’m just—Dad, I was so _happy_ ,” he whispers, “he makes me so _happy_ —I’ve never had that before.” He has a thought that makes him even sadder and he chokes back a sob. “He wants to see me again,” he manages to get out, “but I’m going to be too old for him then, and it just—it _sucks_ , Dad. It sucks! I’m going to be the bad guy, I’m going to be the one that never calls him again after making out with him all night. And if I’d just had him the first time—things could have been so different! It’s not—it’s not _fair_.”

Phil’s heart breaks, and he settles into bed next to him, wrapping him in his arms and rocking him back and forth. “I know it’s not fair, love. I know. This has been so hard on you. But when you get older, you might find someone else, and it could be just as good. Your heart is so full of love, Gary Alexander Neville, it doesn’t make sense that all of it is for Jake.”

“So what, I’m going to try to learn how to be gay when I’m forty years old?” Gary asks, “they’re going to laugh at me, wondering how I could’ve gotten so far without even knowing how to be with a man—“

Phil doesn’t know what to say, has no words to soothe his brother’s pain, and so he just holds him and rocks him and waits for him to calm down. “You’ll find the right man, Gary, you’ve got to try, but you can do it, you can find the right man. You’re so persistent, so determined, and you’re going to do brilliantly, I promise you. You’ll find someone else, you’ll fall head over heels for him, and he’ll fall for you too, and the two of you will figure things out together, okay?”

Gary sniffs and nods. “I know I’m acting like a fucking infant,” he mutters, “I just—it _hurt_ , that I might never see him again. That we never got a chance.”

“I know, love, I know it hurt.” Phil says softly, “we don’t know though, you might still be young enough to have another date with him tomorrow. We’ve got to hope for the best, yeah?”

Gary nods again. “I’m sorry I’ve been awful today,” he mumbles, “it was like I couldn’t control myself—I knew it was wrong, and I knew it wasn’t fair, but I still said such awful things to you. I was just so angry at everyone and everything, and then Jake came, and he saw me and he looked at me like I was _beautiful_ , Dad, and—and it doesn’t _matter_ , because I can’t keep him.”

“You lashed out at me because I’m your brother, and you know I’ll love you no matter what you say. And I’m so sorry that things with Jake hurt so much, and I’m sorry you didn’t get to have someone like him the first time round, but you’re going to be okay, I promise you. Now, wipe your eyes, Gaz, and try to get some rest, and come find me if your legs hurt again, okay? We can do what we did last night, stretch you out and massage the muscles so they don’t hurt so much.”

“Love you, Dad,” Gary says quietly, “I know we don’t say it, but I do love you.”

“Love you too, Gary,” Phil says kindly, “now go to sleep for me, okay?”

Gary nods, and Phil sits in bed next to him as he lays down, eyes drifting shut. “Thanks for checking on me,” Gary says softly, squeezing Phil’s hand in his own, “it just—it felt like so much to just feel by myself and not tell anyone.”

“You don’t have to go through things on your own,” Phil promises, “not now, not tomorrow, not when you’re back to being in your forties, okay? You pick up the phone and call me anytime you feel overwhelmed by your emotions. We’ll talk it through and find a way to make you feel better.”

Gary nods. “What if I never find someone like that again?” he whispers.

“Jake is special. He’s your first love, the first person who you’ve been able to pursue openly, Gaz. You might not find someone exactly like him, but you’ll find someone else that you might be interested in. You can love different people in different ways, and that doesn’t mean one is less than the other.”

Gary nods. “I took a picture of us on my phone,” he says quietly, “so even when things are over, I can remember him.”

“Good man,” Phil says softly, “now try to sleep some, lad. We’ll go out for breakfast tomorrow, okay? Just you and me, and you can tell me all about how it went.”

“Sounds good,” Gary says, half asleep already, and Phil waits for him to get the rest of the way there before he goes back to his own room and lays down next to Julie. He tries to sleep, and it shouldn’t be hard, given how exhausted he is, but he keeps thinking about Gary, and his heart aches in his chest at how much pain he must have gone through in their childhood, all on his own. He wonders if that pain ever healed, or if it was just something Gary dealt with all the time, whenever he dated a woman or when he’s proposed to his ex. He wonders if Gary felt that pain on his wedding day, looking across the aisle at a person he was committing to and knowing he could never love her.

For the first time, Phil thinks that maybe it’s a good thing that his brother got turned into a toddler, that he got to live again, even if he grows too fast. At least he got that date tonight, and that’s more than he had in his youth, at least.

Phil wakes up late the next morning, glad it’s a Saturday, and the kids haven’t got school. Gary wakes up late, too, but he showers and shaves and he’s downstairs just after Phil is.

“Are we still doing breakfast today?” he asks hesitantly, looking at Phil, “we can stay here, if you want, that would be fine.”

“Let’s go out,” Phil decides, “have a brothers-only breakfast, just you and me.”

“Then you’ve got to have one with me and Harvey too,” Izzie demands, “dad-daughter breakfast and father-son breakfast!”

“And date night dinner wouldn’t be an awful idea,” Julie says with a wink.

“Done, done, and done,” Phil says with a grin.

“Ew,” Harvey complains, “stop flirting with Mum, I’m trying to eat breakfast!”  
\---

They arrive at a little old diner where Phil’s so well known they barely get a second glance and they settle in a booth. Phil gets himself some Belgian waffles, and Gary gets pancakes with strawberries and a side of eggs and bacon. And two toasts.

“What? I’m still growing, Dad, it takes a lot of energy!” he complains, shoveling food in his mouth.

“Nobody’s going to take it away, Gary, chew and swallow, like a normal person. Besides, if you’re just gonna inhale it, we aren’t going to be able to sit down and talk about last night, are we?”

“I’m sorry I cried,” Gary says quickly, “I know that was stupid, and I was stupid for being emotional about something so dumb—it was just a first date, I know that, and it was stupid to be emotional about losing him.”

“Stop it,” Phil says quietly, “it wasn’t stupid. I feel that way too—the other day I cried about something, and I apologized to Julie for it. There’s no need. You’re only human, Gary. You’re allowed to feel sad. I can’t imagine how hard yesterday must have been, between your emotions and your hormones going haywire and your mental state jumping so quickly from being little to being a teenager overnight. I should have been more understanding of that, and you should have been more respectful of me. We both made mistakes, but talking to me last night and crying when you felt hurt? That wasn’t one of them, I promise you.”

Gary looks away. “My other dad wasn’t like that.”

“I know. I remember. He was my dad too, Gaz. He wasn’t like that, and he—he did his best for us, but times were different then. We know better now, we know how important it is to share things with people and not keep our emotions all bottled up.”

“It’s hard not to. Hard to make yourself say what’s bothering you.”

“I know. We’ve just got to keep practicing, you and me. Okay?”

They talk about other things after that, where Gary’d had his date the night before, what they’d ordered, how Gary’d offered Jake his jacket when he was cold and they’d sat together in the park on the wet grass, looking up at the stars together.

Finally, Phil pays the bill, and they head out.

“Maybe we could do this again?” Gary asks, almost shy, “when I’m old again? I’ll buy next time!”

“I think my breakfasts are a bit booked up, since the kids want one, and Jules wants a dinner date, but is next week okay, Gaz? We’ll set it up as an appointment so we don’t get busy and forget.”

Gary smiles and they head back home.

Jake’s sitting in the lounge, talking to Julie and he stands up when Gary walks in.

“Jake!” Gary’s excited and he runs over to him and hugs him as if they hadn’t just seen each other the night before.

“Hey,” Jake says tenderly, holding him close, “I missed you. Wanted to ask if I could take you out tonight. Thought I’d just come surprise you, but you weren’t here and your mum said I could wait for you to get back.”

“I’m glad you came by,” Gary says eagerly, sitting down next to him and not noticing how his parents discreetly leave the room to allow them some privacy.

The next time Phil looks in, it’s quiet, and they’re kissing. It’s not the most outrageous kiss in the world, they’re still sitting next to each other on the sofa, but Jake has his hand on Gary’s jaw, and it’s sweet.

When Jake finally leaves, he’s planning to take Gary out to dinner that night and Gary waits until the door is closed to ask Julie if they can go out shopping again. “He’s gonna think I’m weird if I show up in the same outfit twice in a row, and I can’t wear Dad’s clothes, he doesn’t like me so much that he won’t notice that!”

Julie laughs and agrees to take him out again, and they repeat the same timeline as yesterday as Phil and the kids relax at home, spending some time watching football and a bit of cricket.

Gary comes home and promptly gets ready, complete with Phil’s cologne. By the time he’s done, it’s still far too early, so he settles down with the kids and Phil and lounges for a bit before Jake rings the doorbell.

“I’ll get it!” he declares, seeing the looks of interest on Harvey and Isabella’s faces. Phil rolls his eyes but stands up with him, fully intending on having a few words with this Jake lad who Gary’s so smitten with.

“You look—wow, Gary,” Jake says softly, “you look amazing. That shirt really suits you.”

Gary promptly blushes. “Be back by eleven-thirty, Dad, okay? Bye!” He’s clearly eager to forestall too much conversation between Jake and Phil.

“Hang on a second, Gaz, let me at least talk to him!” Phil demands, looking at Jake.

“Gary likes you very much,” he says quietly, “and he deserves the world and more. It would be in your best interests to treat him well tonight, are we understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Jake’s gaze doesn’t falter, and he maintains eye contact for a long moment before Phil smiles at him.

“You can have an extra fifteen minutes,” he allows, “but you’d better have him back before midnight, or his carriage might turn into a pumpkin.”

Gary smiles at him. “Come on, babe, let’s go,” he says, taking Jake’s hand and leading him out, turning to wave goodbye at Phil for a moment.

And then they’re gone, and Phil’s wondering if Gary has a condom, if the opportunity will arise for him to need a condom. He wonders if Jake will be kind to him, if Gary would really be so reckless as to rush into sex on a second date, pressured by the thought of aging overnight.

Julie rolls her eyes and leaves him downstairs to fret when it gets late, heading up to bed herself. Gary walks in at just about the strike of midnight, which is pretty much what Phil had expected, really, and he looks like he’s walking on air.

He walks into the lounge and throws himself onto the sofa next to Phil, his gangly legs hanging over the armrest.

“Guessing it went well, then?”

“He’s perfect,” Gary breathes, “he’s just absolutely perfect, Dad. Even if it can’t last, I’m just glad I get to be with him for now, you know? I’m glad I get to have sweet romantic dates with him, get to have a teenage crush who likes me back for once—“ He sighs, eyes drifting shut as he thinks.

“I just hope he isn’t too hurt by it,” he says quietly, “when I get old. I hope he isn’t too crushed when I can’t date him anymore. I was thinking about breaking it off now, just to spare him that, but—I was too selfish to do it. I just wanted him so much. Wanted him to look at me like I’m the most incredible thing he’s ever seen.”

Phil smiles. “You don’t look too different from yesterday, Gaz, you might have a bit more time at this age, you never know. And if you really trust him, maybe it might be worth thinking about whether you want to tell him about what happened to you. That way at least he’ll understand.”

Gary nods. “I’ll tell him everything,” he decides, “I’ll call him tomorrow and tell him. It’s not fair, to lead him on like this, no matter how much I like him.”

“You may look the same as yesterday, Gary, but you’ve done a lot of growing up since then,” Phil praises, tapping at Gary’s temple, “all in here. I’m really proud of the man you’re becoming, you know.”

Gary smiles. “Thanks, Dad. We should probably go up to bed, I’m exhausted and I think I might have another growth spurt tonight, but I’m nearly my adult height, aren’t I? So I can’t have that much left.”

“We’ll see what happens,” Phil agrees, standing up and waiting for Gary to leave the room before flicking off the light.   
\---

Gary still grows over the next few days. The cracks in his voice fade away, and he’s speaking in his mature adult voice, he grows slightly taller, and his muscles grow broader and stronger as he starts to feel the transition from boy to man.

A few days later, he’s in his late teens, maybe just on the cusp of twenty, and Jake calls, wondering why he hasn’t heard from him in a couple of days. Gary goes outside to the garden, and they talk for well over an hour, and when he comes back inside, grim-faced with pained eyes.

“Told him everything,” he confesses wearily, “broke it off. I don’t think he believed me about the aging, but then I showed him my shoulders—they weren’t this broad a few days ago. He had a lot of questions—how it happened, why, who did it, and I just didn’t know any of the answers.”

Phil hugs him tight, pulls out two beers from the fridge, and leads him into the lounge to sit down. He doesn’t have the words, not for this, but he can be there, at least.

Gary drinks the beer and gets another one, and Phil’s about to suggest he not go for a third when he rises again, but that’s not what Gary wants anyway.

“I think I’m going to go to bed. Just want my old body back, as soon as I can get it, at this point. I can move out tomorrow, if you want—I’ve imposed on you and Julie long enough, Philip. Might not be forty yet, but I was living on my own in my twenties, I can handle it.”

He stops calling Julie and Phil mum and dad after that, and the next day, he’s gone, all packed up and settled in a taxi back to his flat. 


	4. Chapter 4

The house feels emptier, after he’s gone. They all try to revert to their normal routines, but Phil still worries, and he texts Gary a few times a day.  
  
Sometimes Gary slips up and calls him Dad, when they’re on the phone. It doesn’t happen, usually, but there’s a moment of awkward silence when it does, and Gary’s the one who always breaks it, with a strained laugh and an excuse about how he has things to do.  
  
Jamie goes to visit Gary, just to check in on him. After he says goodbye to Gary, he phones Phil.  
  
“He’s not… right.”  
  
Normally those would be fighting words for Phil, but as it is… there’s really no denying that his brother’s pretty messed up at the moment.  
  
“How could he be right? He was madly in love with a teenager like three days ago and he’s still trying to get over his first love,” Phil says with a heavy sigh, “I’d be more concerned if he seemed perfectly fine, if I’m honest.”  
  
Jamie sighs. “Yeah, you’re right. He kept staring at me, like he was looking for something? And when I asked him about it, he said I reminded him of someone else.”  
  
Phil sighs. “Jake. His boyfriend. Ex, I guess. The boy he dated when he was a teenager. He looks like you, a bit, blue eyes and dark hair and that sort of athletic build? Gaz fell for him, it was love at first sight, and it couldn’t last. It was the first time he’d dated a lad, you know, and they were absolutely mad about each other. The day after their first date, Jake was at our door wanting to see him again.”  
  
“Fuck.”  
  
“Yeah. I wanted him to be happy, so I let him do it, but a few years later he was in his twenties and Jake was still seventeen, and it sort of crushed them both.”  
  
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Jamie asks softly.  
  
Phil considers the question, and realizes idly that somehow, out of this whole experience, he now sees Jamie as a friend.  
  
“Stay with him, if you can. Or drop by every day or two to watch football or have a drink and just talk to him. It can’t be easy, trying to process all of this when he’s all on his own. I’d come by too, but Julie’s mum’s been sick, so I’ve been taking the kids around and trying to make things as easy as possible for her—“  
  
“I’ll tell him one of my pipes broke and move into his place for a little while, then.” Phil hadn’t quite considered lying as part of the plan, but it works out well enough, so he agrees.  
\---

  
Gary’s not quite back to being in his forties, Jamie notes as he knocks on the door. The wrinkles between his eyes and around his lips aren’t as deep, and he’s slimmer, in that effortless way in which they’d all been slim in their twenties and thirties.

  
“Hey, Gaz. Thanks for letting me stay over,” Jamie says gratefully, pulling his bag into the house and giving Gary a hug.  
  
Gary’s got dark bags under his eyes, but he still smiles, and Jamie reads it instantly. So the plan is to pretend things are normal then.  
  
“So things are okay, then?” Jamie asks over Chinese takeout as they watch telly. “Must’ve been a hell of a thing, going through all of this.”  
  
“Yeah, things are fine, mostly. Sometimes I call my sister-in-law Mum, so that’s pretty fucked up, but everything else is fine, more or less.”  
  
Gary’s not even pretending to sound genuine. He’s just deflecting with dry humor, and Jamie doesn’t approve, but he does understand. He lets it go, and they talk about football and watch films until Gary starts yawning.  
  
“I’ll show you to your room.” He rises to his feet and stretches, waiting for Jamie to stand up and follow him. Jamie goes to sleep, and when he wakes up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, he notices a lamp on in Gary’s bedroom. He peeks in, and Gary’s fast asleep.  
  
 _He must have drifted off with the light on_ , he reasons, and walks in to turn it off before leaving, thinking nothing of it.  
  
He’s asleep himself when a shout wakes him. It’s Gary, and for an instant, Jamie’s sure there’s someone in the house, and he’s completely prepared to go in and save Gary’s life.  
  
He leaps up and sprints over to Gary’s room, flipping on the light. “What’s wrong—“ he demands urgently, scanning the room for something he can use to hit the intruder. That’s about when he sees that there is no intruder. There’s just his colleague, looking up at him with wet eyes, soaked in sweat.  
  
“What happened?” he asks softly, sitting on the edge of the bed next to Gary.  
  
“Woke up and the light was off,” Gary confesses, looking away, “I like to keep it on, ever since. Afraid of the dark. And I always think I’m going to wake up small again, if the light’s already on, I can see that I’m not, that I’m still big, and I’m not just alone and little and so scared that I make a mess of myself—“  
  
“Shit, Gary, that was me—I turned off the light. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry, mate.”  
  
“It’s okay. You didn’t know.”  
  
Jamie doesn’t know what else to do, so he apologizes again, and stands up, ready to walk back to his room.  
  
“Stay.” The word is strangled as it comes out, halfway between a plea and a command. “Please.”  
  
Jamie doesn’t say a single word about it, just turns on Gary’s lamp and turns off the overhead light, and climbs into the other side of the bed.  
  
Gary stays quiet, staring up at the ceiling and not looking at Jamie at all.  
  
“Talk to me,” Jamie says quietly, shifting a little bit closer and resting a hand on Gary’s arm.  
  
“I get scared. Waking up alone was scary, and I was too little to do anything—I was just useless and tiny and alone and then Phil and Julie came and saved me. That was the best feeling, J. I sat in his lap the whole way home. I didn’t know he was my brother, but I trusted him, as soon as I saw him, I knew he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me. And now I’m back to being alone, and I’m big enough physically, but my mind gets—it’s weird. Sometimes I think like a kid again, think about Phil as my dad and I don’t want to call him every day and worry him when he has real kids to worry about.”  
  
“You can call me,” Jamie offers, “it doesn’t always have to be Phil. I know he’s your brother, and I know he took care of you, but if you don’t want to call him, you can call me, okay? And I can stay here for awhile. Even—even _here_ -here. In your room. Would that help?”  
  
Gary swallows, and nods, still not looking at him. He closes his eyes, but he moves infinitesimally closer to Jamie. Jamie takes it as tacit agreement.  
\---

  
Jamie wakes up alone, and isn’t particularly surprised by it. Gary might have been willing to be vulnerable after a nightmare in the dark, but in the morning light, he’d probably felt embarrassed and left before they had a change to talk about it.

  
Jamie finds him in the kitchen making breakfast, scrambled eggs and toast. He sits at the counter, still in his pajamas, and yawns out a good morning.  
  
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Gary says lightly, handing him a cup of coffee. “Milk’s in the fridge, sugar’s in the bowl on the table.”  
  
Jamie nods and adds a bit of sugar before taking a sip.  
  
“What’s on the schedule for today, then?”  
  
“Nothing much, I’ll go to the gym for a bit, come back, shower, go get some groceries, maybe have a nap. I can’t go back to work for another few days, so I don’t have much to do.”  
  
“Maybe you could go see Phil,” Jamie suggests, looking at his tea, “he misses you, he told me so.”  
  
Gary smiles weakly. “Nah, he’ll be glad to get me out of his hair for a little bit. We both need a bit of time to recover from this past week.”  
  
Jamie lets it go, mostly because his attention is caught by something far more interesting.  
  
“Do—do you have a _boner_?!”  
  
Gary flushes scarlet. “I was a teenager like three days ago, my dick still thinks I am. Anything will set it off these days. And—I mean, I woke up with you, and my body sort of didn’t realize that you’re just _you_? You look like Jake from the back, a bit. Got excited for no reason.”  
  
Jamie grins. “Aww, you can just say I’m super hot and turn you on, Gaz.”  
  
“Shut up, James. I offer you a place to stay, and this is what I get?!”  
  
Jamie laughs and shrugs. “You knew what you were getting into, Gary.”

\---

Jamie stops sleeping in the guest room and basically moves into Gary’s. They sleep with the lamp on, and when Jamie wakes up, more often than not, Gary’s still asleep, clinging to him. It’s almost child-like, like a kid with nightmares crawling into his parents’ bed.

 

Then again, there are days he wakes up and is greeted by the sight of Gary’s morning wood, or damp sheets. Sometimes Gary’s having a sex dream, hips shifting into the mattress even though he’s still asleep.

 

It’s not comfortable, by any means, but Jamie gets used to it. Or pretends to. Sometimes he strips the sheets when Gary’s in the shower and runs a load of laundry so he won’t get embarrassed by it.

 

On Thursday evening, he wakes up in the middle of the night, hearing a groan. He’s expecting it to be another wet dream, and he’s half-considering leaving to go back to the guest room when he sees that Gary’s not enjoying himself. It isn’t a moan of sexual pleasure, it’s more of a whimper. There’s another one, and Jamie’s heart cracks a little at the sound of it.

 

“Wake up, Gaz,” he whispers, “just a bad dream. It’s just a nightmare, Gary, wake up.” He shakes Gary’s shoulders, and his eyes fly open, full of fear and wet with tears.

 

Gary throws his arms around Jamie and holds tight. “Why can’t I just be fucking normal again?” he mumbles, “why do I have to dream that I’m little or that I’m losing Jake, or that Dad— _Phil_ left me and I can’t find him and I’m all by myself? Why can’t I just stop dreaming, J? I don’t want to dream anymore.”

 

Jamie hugs him close, rubbing his back and making soothing sounds. “Hush, Gary, you’ve been through a lot. It’s okay to dream. And you’re not alone, I’m here. I promise you, I’m here, Gary. And that’s why I’m here, I want to help you, I want to be here for you—“

 

Gary pulls away from him and looks at him for a moment, flushed and damp with sweat.

 

There’s a few seconds of eye contact, and Gary’s eyes look warm in the lamplight.

 

He leans in close to Jamie and looks at him again, eyes flicking down to Jamie’s lips to telegraph his intentions. “Can I?” he asks quietly.

 

“Why do you want to?” Jamie responds, no heat in his voice.

 

“Because having you here has kept me from going crazy. Crazier than I am now, at least. And I’ve had a crush on you for like six months, J. You’re attractive. You’ve got these amazing eyes and I love looking at your ass in jeans, and I like your laugh. Your smile makes everything okay, and I kind of like your accent even though I’m never going to say that again, and—“

 

Jamie’s the one who leans in this time, pressing his lips against Gary’s. The kiss is gentle, and he’s holding him the whole time, one hand steady at Gary’s waist.

 

When he pulls away, he looks at Gary and nods. “You can,” he says, lips quirking upward ever so slightly, “and I’m glad you think I have an amazing ass, Gaz.”

 

“I never said it was _amazing_ ,” Gary grumbles, though the flush on his cheeks says otherwise, “I just said I like looking at it. The right size for a squeeze.”

 

Jamie laughs at that, and the sound makes Gary smile. “Another one,” he demands playfully, shifting them so Jamie’s on his back and Gary’s on top of him. He doesn’t wait, just leans in and kisses him again, allowing his lips to part in invitation.

 

“We should go to bed,” Jamie whispers, though the way his eyes are shining suggest he doesn’t particularly mean it.

 

“We should,” Gary agrees, waggling his eyebrows until Jamie bursts into bright laughter. “What? I was a teenager like a week ago, I still have a hell of a libido, James!”

 

“What if I’m not that kind of boy, Gary Neville? What if I want you to take me out to dinner first before I spread my legs. Or you spread yours, if you want, I’m flexible. Not very, mind you, these knees don’t do too well with blowjobs on the floor, but otherwise—“

 

“You’re gay?!”

 

“Been with both,” Jamie says easily, “liked both. I love women, but I’ve been with men before. Fallen in love with men before, too. Just—it wasn’t practical, when I was playing.”

 

“And now?”

 

“And now I’m an old man and I’m going to be doing whatever I want to whoever I want.”

 

Gary smiles shyly. “Never slept with a man before,” he admits, “not a particularly good gay, am I?”

 

“I think you’re a fantastic gay, Gaz. You kiss like a dream, makes a man wonder what else that mouth can do.”

 

Gary flushes.

 

“But for now, we need to go to sleep,” Jamie finishes softly, “bedtime, Gaz. We can talk about everything tomorrow. I’m not running off in the middle of the night.”

 

Gary relaxes, allowing his body to press against Jamie’s. It’s a first for them, to sink into each other like this when they’re both awake.

 

“Good night, Gary,” Jamie whispers, kissing his hair.

 

“Night, Jamie,” Gary mumbles, already half-asleep.

 

They leave the lamp on, but Gary doesn’t wake up again until the morning.

\---

 

 

“My pipe was never broken,” Jamie admits over breakfast, one of Gary’s t-shirts stretched tight across his chest, “just wanted to be here for you if you needed me.”

 

Gary beams and kisses him from across the table. “I did need you. I still do, J.”

 

Jamie doesn’t officially move in, but he is over at Gary’s a lot of the time, after that. Either that or Gary goes over to his, learns new things about his partner that he’d never think to ask, like what kind of cologne he uses, and that he uses conditioner, or that he likes to have paintings on the walls so there’s always something interesting to look at.

 

It takes two weeks for Gary to stop sleeping with the lamp on. Jamie doesn’t say a single word about it, just leaves it on and goes to sleep until one night, he hears the click of the lamp and the red-tinted darkness behind his closed eyelids suddenly grows darker.

 

“You sure, Gaz?” he asks softly, and a moment later, he feels the warm weight of Gary’s head on his shoulder, nodding.

 

Jamie almost wants to say I’m proud of you, but it feels like it would be a little too condescending, so he just thinks it instead.

 

He calls Phil the next day and mentions that he thinks Gary’s doing a lot better. He leaves out the part where he and Gary are dating. Kind of. It feels more like a weeks-long sleepover with kisses and carryout, but he supposes dating is not inaccurate, either.

\---  
  
Gary calls Phil too, every other day. They text, too, more than they ever had before Gary woke up small.

 

It’s on one of those routine phone calls when Jamie’s walking into the shower, still half-asleep, and he hears Gary quietly say that he’s met someone.

 

“No, you like him,” Gary says after a moment, a small smile curling up the corners of his lips.

 

There’s silence and Jamie stands just inside the bathroom, eavesdropping shamelessly.

 

“I don’t want you to treat him any differently when you find out,” Gary says softly, voice almost vulnerable.

 

“Yeah—yeah, it is. How did you know? What do you _mean_ you had a _feeling_? Okay you were my dad for a week tops, how the _hell_ did you know I fancied him before _I_ knew I fancied him?!”

 

Jamie grins and pokes his head through the doorway, only to see Gary flushing.

 

“Okay, yeah, so maybe the raging boner was a clue,” he mutters sheepishly, “but I thought it was just hormones!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End
> 
> (also apologies for any typos, I'm publishing this on my lunch break at work with virtually no editing)


End file.
